


Cosa Nostra

by shesasurvivor (starkist)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-03-30 17:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13956144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkist/pseuds/shesasurvivor
Summary: Katniss Everdeen is a performer for The Mockingjay, a hotel and casino run by mob boss Coriolanus Snow in Las Vegas. Peeta Mellark is the  accountant who might be a plant for the FBI in The Mockingjay’s business office. The two are instantly drawn to each other, but how can anything possibly end well when they are on two opposing sides? Especially when the mob will have no problem harming Katniss’s sister if she betrays them. 1950’s historical AU set in mob-run Las Vegas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not be the same without the efforts of bigbigbigday006 and gentlemama, who offered their valuable time to help beta this story, and akai-echo, who provided the amazing banner. Finally, this story likely would not have existed at all without the brainstorming session held with beanfromdistrict7 in an old Italian restaurant on the Vegas Strip one summer evening in 2014.
> 
> Huge thank you to everyone at loveinpanem for holding A Candle for the Caribbean!
> 
> This story is complete. I plan to post a new chapter every Monday (what I like to refer to as 'Mob Mondays') until the story is posted in its entirety.

It’s a bright, sunny June morning here in the Mojave desert. Ninety degrees, and it’s barely ten o’clock. Outside, I can hear the tourists already splashing in the hotel’s pool. This still surprises me, even after three years. The guests start lining up at eight in the morning, which seems too early to me, but I guess when you pay good money to visit Las Vegas and you’re not used to this kind of heat, no time is inappropriate.

 

Not that I’m one to talk. I prefer to take my swims after everyone has gone to bed.

 

This is a special morning, however. Today, my little sister returns after finishing her school year up at the University of Reno. I haven’t seen her since April when she came down to visit for a week. Before that, the last time I had seen her was for Christmas. She’s finishing her second year of college, and I couldn’t be more proud of her. But missing her hasn’t gotten any easier.

 

Prim is the only person I really have in this world. No, I suppose that’s not entirely true. I have Effie, my stage manager, and Cinna, who does my costumes. You see, I’m a singer at one of the biggest casino hotels on the Vegas Strip. I headline the show for the Mockingjay Casino and Hotel. And I’m the Mockingjay.

 

It wasn’t my first choice, by a long shot. I’m not really much of a people person in general. But when I was approached with this opportunity, it was one I could hardly turn down. My husband was dead. My father was dead. My mother went crazy after losing my father and had to be admitted to a mental hospital. She might as well be dead. So Prim and I were alone in this world, and just when I was beginning to panic, this offer came along and saved us both. We have a place to live, plenty of food, clothes on our back. Prim’s tuition is even being covered. Because of this, I tolerate what I have to do.

 

Today, though, there’s almost a spring in my step as I leave my suite, located just off the pool, and head over to the Mockingjay’s coffee shop for some breakfast. Prim should be here by noon. That’s two hours I have to kill before she gets here. Breakfast should knock off one of those hours. After that, I guess I’ll putter around the hotel. Maybe I’ll try my hand at gambling, even though I’m no good at it. Despite living in a casino in Las Vegas, I couldn’t even begin to tell you the difference between craps and poker. Okay, maybe I know that poker has cards, but I couldn’t tell you much more than that. And don’t even get me started on roulette. I know Keno somewhat because it’s played in the restaurants. Even at breakfast at the coffee shop I’m about to go to, there will be Keno girls walking from table to table, taking bets for the gamblers.

 

I’m just turning out of the employee hallways that hold all the offices, and into the main entrance that leads to the coffee shop, when a group talking loudly wakes me from my thoughts. “Ah! Katniss,” a familiar voice calls out to me. It’s Plutarch Heavensbee, the owner of the hotel. Well, the public owner, at least.

 

I look at him curiously but don’t offer him much more of a reaction.

 

“Wonderful timing, my dear.” He walks over to me and claps a hand on my back as he leads me back to his group. I recognize most of them. Two of them are Darius and Cray, a couple of the hotel’s security guards that Plutarch likes to keep around him to feel safe. Fulvia Cardew, Plutarch’s assistant, stands close at hand with a pen and paper, at the ready for anything Plutarch might request. The last member is someone I don’t recognize, though he looks familiar to me for some reason. He has blond hair that falls in waves across his forehead and clear blue eyes. Medium height with a stocky build. He can’t be much older than I am. His eyes land on me, then quickly dart away, looking elsewhere.

 

“I’d like you to meet a new employee, Katniss,” Plutarch says to me. “This is Peeta Mellark! He’ll be working in our accounting office from now on.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” I say, and give a small nod.

 

At this introduction, Peeta Mellark looks back at me, only this time he holds my gaze. He gives me an easygoing smile. “Nice to meet you, too,” he says, holding out a hand. I glance down at it before I accept. He clasps my hand in his steady grip and gives it a shake. “Of course, I already know you.”

 

“Do you?” I ask, genuinely curious. Maybe we have met before, and maybe he remembers where and when and is about to tell me how.

 

“Of course,” he gives a lopsided grin. “Everybody knows the Mockingjay.”

 

Oh, is that all? I try to give him the friendliest smile I can muster. “I hope you’re a fan,” I say, putting on that public persona that Effie Trinket has worked so hard to drill into me.

 

“Of course he is,” Plutarch says before Peeta even has a chance to answer. “Who wouldn’t be a fan, with a velvet voice like yours? Anyways, Katniss, we don’t want to hold you up. Lots to show Mr. Mellark here!”

 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Everdeen,” Peeta says to me with another warm smile as Plutarch ushers him off.

 

I’m left standing alone in the hallway, with nothing to do except continue my original purpose. So I make my way to the coffee shop, all the while pondering the encounter in my head. It wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary--Plutarch often introduces new employees to those of us who have been here a while. But something about the way he acted with this one- what was his name? Peeta. Peeta Mellark. Something about the way he acted with this Peeta Mellark seemed odd for some reason. I just can’t put my finger on what it was.

 

And Peeta Mellark himself… why did he seem so familiar? I know I’ve seen him somewhere, but I don’t know where.

 

“Morning, Katniss,” another familiar voice cuts into my thoughts. I glance up at the red-headed girl standing in front of my table.

 

“Morning, Lavinia,” I say.

 

“The usual?”

 

I nod. In a matter of moments, Lavinia has a glass of orange juice placed in front of me. I sip on it while I continue my thoughts in quiet. Then I feel somebody slip into my booth next to me.

 

“Katniss,” Darius offers me a mischievous grin.

 

“Darius,” I say. “All done with your tour?”

 

“Maybe,” he says playfully. “What are you having for breakfast?”

 

“My usual. And what do you mean, ‘maybe?’”

 

“I mean, maybe I got excused early so Plutarch could finish the rest of it himself.”

 

That seems odd, but I shrug it off. Darius tugs at the tip of my braid.

 

“Come on, Katniss, don’t you want to know why?”

 

“Not really,” I say.

 

“He’s hiding something.”

 

I give him a look. “What makes you think that?”

 

“Why else would he make the rest of us leave, when normally we’re there for the full tour?”

 

“I don’t know,” I say. “He is an accountant. Maybe they had confidential stuff to talk about.”

 

“Exactly, Darius says triumphantly, then looks at me, waiting for me to catch up.

 

I sigh and decide to take the bait. “What are you getting at, Darius?”

 

“Haven’t you heard the rumors?” he asks, and now he genuinely seems surprised.

 

“What rumors?”

 

He glances around, then leans in closer and drops his voice to a whisper. “The rumors are that he’s a plant for the FBI. He’s here to catch any funny business that might be happening with the books. And you and I both know that- “ he drops off mid-sentence. But he didn’t have to complete it for me to know what he’s talking about. Because Darius and I both know what goes on behind the scenes around this place. If what Darius is saying is true, this could be bad.

 

“Anyway, you be careful, Mockingjay,” he says as he helps himself to my orange juice.

 

“Why?” I ask, frowning as I take the glass out of his hands.

 

He gives me another grin as he slides out of the booth. “Because he sure seemed taken with you.”

 

\---

 

I’m still brushing off Darius’s words as I pull up to the small airport that services Las Vegas. You’d never know from looking at it that McCarren Field brings visitors from all around the world to our little town. I wonder how many of them are disappointed when they land to see we’re really not much more than a stop in the endless desert surrounding us. It doesn’t seem to be many, though. There is no short supply of tourists around here.

 

It’s not a tourist I’m looking for right now, though. I’m here to pick up Prim and take her back for her summer checking guests in at the Mockingjay’s front desk.

 

As I cross the dusty parking lot to wait for Prim’s plane to touch down, Darius’s words echo once more in my head. He sure seemed taken with you. Why would our new accountant be taken with me? Sure, I’ve had my fair share of fans attempt to meet me in the past. And yes, most of them have been male. But this Peeta Mellark, with his wholesome blue eyes and golden curls, with his easygoing expression, he doesn’t seem the type to become obsessed with a lounge singer in Las Vegas. Especially if it turns out to be true that he’s working for the FBI. If anything, he’s just scoping me out for any potential leads.

 

Which is why I need to stay as far away from Peeta Mellark as I can.

 

Yes, I know things. Not as many things as Gale did, or Plutarch Heavensbee, or any number of lackeys actually involved in Snow’s… business. I’m honestly just a lounge singer. But I’m a lounge singer with information that could prove useful to someone looking to find out what’s really going on, and I can’t have that. Not when everything I do is meant to keep Prim safe.

 

I shake my head. What am I so concerned about, anyway? I don’t even know for sure that Peeta Mellark is an informant for the FBI. That’s just Darius repeating the casino’s gossip. It could just as easily be untrue. So far, the only thing Peeta is guilty of is being a little too genuinely friendly. That’s not normal around Vegas, except maybe for our visitors.

 

A short time later, Prim is running to me from the plane’s staircase, pausing just long enough to deposit her bags quickly on the ground before she throws her arms around me.

 

“Katniss!” She all but squeals.

 

“Welcome home, Little Duck,” I say. “Did you have a good flight?”

 

“Yes. Well, it was a little bumpy taking off, but it was quiet after that. It’s so good to be home with you!!”

 

“It’s good to have you home, Prim,” I smile at her. “Do we have everything?”

 

Prim nods, and babbles on happily about everything she can possibly think of as we make our way back and load up the car. She tells me everything--from the friends she’s made to the boys who have taken her on dates (but behaved like gentlemen, of course), to the extracurricular activities she’s participated in.

 

“It’s a wonder you have any time for studying,” I laugh.

 

“Just barely,” she agrees, then shoots me a worried look. “But I am studying, don’t worry!”

 

I do my best to give her a stern look, but it just turns into another laugh.

 

“What about you, Katniss?” she asks curiously. “Anything new around The Mockingjay?”

 

“Not really,” I say idly. “A new accountant started today.” I’m not really sure why I bothered to even mention it. It’s hardly exciting news.

 

“Oh?” Prim shoots me a devilish look. “Anyone interesting?”

 

If someone who is potentially a spy for the FBI is interesting, then yes, that would certainly be interesting. But I can hardly tell Prim that, solid evidence or otherwise. I do my best to protect her from that world as much as I can. “Not really,” I say. “I think he’s from the Midwest.” Is he? I don’t even know. I’m basing that off of absolutely nothing.

 

“Is he cute?”

 

“Prim!”

 

“I’m just saying!” she laughs.

 

I glance over at her. “He’s too old for you.”

 

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

 

When I don’t respond, Prim just shakes her head. We’ve had a version of this conversation a thousand times since Gale’s been gone, and it always ends the same way. Really, I don’t know why Prim even bothers anymore. It’s too dangerous for me to date. Well, unless you count Finnick. Finnick Odair, with a set of pipes that can hypnotize nearly any woman with his powerful croon, not to mention his recent takeover of Hollywood. Snow set it up once so it appeared to the whole world that we had a relationship. But that was never anything more than some well-timed photo ops here, and occasionally Los Angeles. The only thing that ever truly bloomed between Finnick and me was a lasting friendship. Mostly because we’re in the same kind of pain. We’re trapped living this same kind of life together.

 

“Your job is all set for the summer,” I say a minute later. It’s obvious that I’m changing the subject, but Prim doesn’t question it. She looks me over for a minute, but when she does finally respond, it’s about the job. “Where am I working this year?”

 

Every summer since we’ve been here, and she’s been old enough to hold a job, she has spent her time earning a little extra cash. It’s actually Snow’s way of expecting a little payback for all the ways he’s helped us. It’s also his way of keeping her close by so he can keep an eye on us, I’m sure, but I’m also really grateful. Because with the chance to work, and make a little extra money of her own, Prim stands every chance of breaking away from this lifestyle one day and living a life of freedom.

 

That’s not a chance I’m ever going to have.

 

“You’ll be at the front desk,” I say.

 

She nods. “That’s not so bad,”

 

“No,” I shake my head. “And at least it’s inside, where it’s cool.”

 

“Right,” she agrees. Last year, she served drinks on the pool deck. Given how any day can be over one hundred degrees in the summer, it’s hard to spend much time out there if you’re not in the water. I’m glad I was able to get her a gig inside this year.

 

We reach the hotel in a short time. I pull into my normal parking spot, and in a flash Eddy, one of the bellhops is at our side and offering to carry Prim’s luggage in for her. After some light protest, we agree to let him help and follow him inside the doors of The Mockingjay.

 

“Not much has changed,” Prim says, taking it in.

 

“No,” I agree. “But they’re painting the casino in the Fall when it gets quieter. Are you hungry?” I ask as we pass by the same coffee shop where I’d eaten breakfast this morning.

 

“I’m starving!” Prim says, putting a hand on her stomach. “I haven’t eaten since early this morning!”

 

“Come on, then,” I laugh. She follows me in, and we take our seats. It isn’t until our drink orders have been placed and Prim sits pouring over the menu that I even notice him.

 

His blue eyes are trained on me but flick away as soon as he notices me looking. He’s sitting on the other side of the restaurant from us, by himself, a plate of half-eaten food in front of him. I suppose he came in for lunch. Of course, he did. Why else would he even be in here? But just the sight of him makes me nervous, and I don’t know why, though I suppose the suspicious that he’s a plant for the FBI is as good a reason as any.

 

“What are you looking at?” Prim’s voice breaks into my thoughts. She twists around in her chair to follow my gaze before I have a chance to avert it and spots him. By now he’s ignoring us completely, concentrating on his sandwich and the newspaper before him, but Prim figures it out anyway. She turns back around and fixes me with a mischievous grin. “Who is he?”

 

“No one,” I mutter. “Um, I mean, that’s just the new accountant I was telling you about.”

 

Her face lights up. “He is cute!” She practically squeals.

 

“Prim!” I scold, ignoring the way my cheeks burn.

 

“Admit it,” she says triumphantly. “You think he’s handsome. Are you going to let him take you out?”

 

“No, Prim! I… I’m not supposed to date anyone at the hotel.” It isn’t entirely true. But it’s the first thing I can think of to get her off my case. What is true is that Snow forbids me from dating anyone he doesn’t approve of. I’m his property, as far as he’s concerned.

 

Prim looks crestfallen. “Oh. I didn’t realize that ” she says. She looks so disappointed, you’d think I had just told her that she was the one not allowed to date anybody. “That’s too bad. He seems like he’d be good for you.”

 

I’m quiet as I taken in her comment. She’s never said anything like that before--what does she mean? He seems like he’d be good for me? I push the thought away because it doesn’t matter what it means. All that matters is that I keep both of us safe, and somehow I don’t think I can do that if I become too involved with Peeta Mellark. It’s better if she stops asking questions.

  
  
  
  


“Katniss! You have five minutes until curtain!” my stage manager hisses from the doorway.

 

“All right, Effie,” I say.

 

“Everyone needs to be in their places in four!” She shoots back.

 

“We’ll have her out in time. I promise.” Cinna, my stylist, can’t help laughing as he turns back towards me while Effie throws her hands up in exasperation and stamps out of the room.

 

“Honestly, you’d think this was my first night or something,” I say to him.

 

“Well, you know how Effie is,” he says as he holds out a pair of black nylons for me to step into.

 

I do. “If she doesn’t make sure everything happens exactly when it’s supposed to, we’ll never hear the end of how our schedules will be thrown off for the rest of our lives.”

 

“Exactly,” he agrees. “She’s just looking out for your best interest, though, Katniss.”

 

“I know,” I sigh. And it’s true, I probably wouldn’t be anywhere without the help of Effie Trinket and her meticulous time-keeping. Snow could not have picked a better person to keep me on track and make sure the main show in his hotel holds together. And I have to admit, I have a certain respect for Effie and her determination. That doesn’t make her any less frustrating to be around.

 

Venia, one of Cinna’s associates on my style team, steps up, holding out a tube of lipstick. I pucker my lips obediently while she applies the finishing touch to my look. “Perfect!” She cries. “You’re going to dazzle them again, Katniss!”

 

“I’d better,” I say as I make my way towards the door of my dressing room. Because everything else in my life relies on the performances I give. If I stop satisfying audiences, then I stop satisfying Snow. And if I stop satisfying Snow… I don’t even want to think about the consequences. All it takes is imagining what might happen to Prim if I lose his favor, and I find it within me to give the performance of my life. Again.

 

To what I’m sure is Effie’s great relief, I’m in my spot at exactly the time I’m supposed to be there. I hear Claudius Templesmith, the opening act, give my introduction and hold my breath as the curtain rises, and the next thing I know I’m standing in front of hundreds of people sitting around circular tables with heaping plates of food placed in front of them. But none of them are paying any attention to their food, save for one or two. Nearly every eye in the house is turned to me.

 

I’d be lying if I said I ever got comfortable with doing this. I don’t like the limelight; I never have. If it were up to me, I’d be perfectly happy living a life of peace and quiet and attracting as little attention as possible. But it isn’t up to me, and this is what I know I must do to keep my sister and myself alive. So I’ve gotten used to it. Being careful only to stare at the tops of the audiences’ heads, I open my mouth and begin the opening song.

 

I’m half-way through it when I notice him. Those same two blue eyes that I caught watching me from across the coffee shop today. Only now they come from the back of the house, where he sits by himself, watching me. Making eye contact, that was my mistake. I never catch their eyes! So what was it that made me look now? I almost forget myself in the middle of the number. Fortunately, I catch myself just in time and continue. But it’s almost impossible to ignore those blue eyes for the entirety of my performance.

 

It’s a bigger relief than usual when I finish the last number and the curtains go down, blocking me from that figure in the audience that makes me feel so shaken up. I just stand there for a minute, taking a few deep breaths while I try to process what just happened.

 

“Katniss, the curtains go up in 30 seconds for your encore,” Effie hisses at me, taking me out of my rumination.

 

I nod and try my best to gain my composure. When I see the curtains begin to lift, I plaster what I hope is a genuinely happy smile, and step forward to greet my audience while they cheer me on. Some of them actually throw kisses, and I pretend to catch them. I’m not sure where this part of me comes from every night when most of the time I can barely stand to even talk to strangers, but something about the energy of the crowd helps me forget myself.

 

I’m glad. Because the last thing I want to do is put Prim in danger.

  


You never would know how full the audience had been tonight if you were judging by the pool alone. By the time I get out there, there isn’t one soul left. Everyone is either in the casino, out seeing another show, or doing God knows what out on the town. And those who are left have gone to bed.

 

That’s why I like to go for my daily swim at night. By this time of day, it’s cleared out and I have the pool to myself. I would prefer it that way even if I weren’t a recognized face around here. It’s peaceful when I’m by myself. And even though the sun has set, and the desert is completely plunged in darkness, the water is still warm, and the lights from the casino provide plenty of illumination to see what I’m doing.

 

But the best is floating on your back so that you can stare up at the night sky. At first, it just looks black, but after you really look at it, you can see that there are actually many shades of midnight blue streaked across the sky, and the stars pop brilliantly in contrast. Sometimes when I’m out here, I can almost forget everything else. For a few blissful moments in the day, I’m at peace.

 

I guess that’s why I don’t realize I’m no longer alone until he’s standing at the edge of the pool. He’s in striped red swim trunks, and a matching red unbuttoned shirt, with a towel thrown over his right shoulder. He stands watching me until I realize he’s there and gasp. Then he startles back to life.

 

“I’m sorry,” he offers. “I didn’t mean to scare you.

 

“Then why are you just standing there, watching me?” I frown at him.

 

“You looked so peaceful,” he says. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

 

I say nothing. I only watch him warily.

 

“Do you mind if I get in too? I was hoping to get in a swim before bed.”

 

I still don’t say anything, but he doesn’t wait for an answer. He throws his towel on a lounge chair, shrugs off his shirt and does the same with it. Then he climbs in on the other end of the pool.

 

“It’s kind of late for a swim, isn’t it?” I ask, watching as he acclimates to the cooler water.

 

“You tell me,” he says pointedly. Touche. Still, I’m not ready to just be alright with him in the pool. Not after all the rumors I’ve heard about him, and the way he’s been watching me all day. “I have a good reason to swim this late,” I say defensively. “It’s the only way I can swim without being bombarded.”

 

He raises his brow at this. “You think you’re so famous that you can’t swim without being harassed?”

 

It’s enough to take the wind out of my sails, though truth is, I might have deserved it. Still, I can’t give in. “It’s happened,” I shoot back. “What’s your excuse?” There. Let’s see how he likes having the spotlight turned right back around on him.

 

He just shrugs. “I had a busy day. I wanted to relax in the water, and this was the first chance I got.” Then he turns away from me and dives under the surface. I watch as he swims the length of the pool underwater, comes up quickly for air, then, dives back under and returns to the other end again.

 

He comes back up and slickens his hair back with his hands.

 

“You’re the new accountant, aren’t you?” I ask, my voice more gentle.

 

He turns back towards me, looking like he’s surprised I would continue a conversation with him. “Yeah,” he confirms. “First day.”

 

I nod. “How do you like it?”

 

“Not bad,” he says. He turns all the way back around so he’s facing me. “Pay’s good. World class entertainment. And you have to admit, the food’s prime.”

 

“Where are you from?” I ask.

 

“Nebraska,” he says. I try to bite back a laugh. With his ashen blond hair, those crystal blue eyes, his pale skin and chiseled arms and chest that he hides under button-down shirts, everything about him screams wholesome. It doesn’t surprise me one bit to learn he’s from the Midwest.

 

“What about you?” he asks. “Where are you from originally?”

 

“Me?” I blink. No one has ever asked me this before. Not since moving here. “I’ve always been here. I popped up with the hotel.”

 

He laughs to himself. “I doubt that,” he says. But he doesn’t press it any further.

 

“Appalachia,” I finally admit quietly.

 

“Appalachia?” He repeats, as though he wasn’t sure he had heard me correctly. I nod. “How’d you get out here?” He asks.

 

I’m silent while I think my answer over. There’s no way I can tell him the whole story. Especially if the rumors about him are true. “My husband… died,” I say evasively. It’s the truth, but what I make sure not to tell him is how he died. Why he died.

 

Immediately, Peeta’s entire demeanor changes. “Oh. I’m so sorry,” he says, and he honestly sounds like he means it. Concern shows in those blue eyes of his. “I didn’t mean to bring up something painful.”

 

I just shake my head. “It was a few years back. I’ve worked through it.”

 

Now it’s Peeta’s turn to nod. “Well… that explains why you left Appalachia. But how did you end up here?”

 

“My husband… knew the owner,” I explain, choosing my words carefully. Actually, Gale worked for the owner, but that’s another part of the story I have to leave out or otherwise risk Peeta’s suspicion. “When he died, I was offered a job out here. What?” I ask as an amused grin spreads across his face.

 

“Just the way you put it,” he says. “You make it sound like he offered you a position as a secretary or something and not the headlining star for a hotel on the Vegas Strip.”

 

I frown. “It is just a job,” I insist. “I wouldn’t be doing this willingly.”

 

“What would you be doing then?” He asks. He sounds genuinely curious, but once again, the question catches me completely off guard. I’ve never really given much thought to what I would be doing if things were different. It’s always been about protecting my sister. “Just… caring for my sister, I suppose,” I tell him.

 

“You have a sister?” He asks.

 

“Yes,” I nod stiffly. It’s not much information, but already I feel like I’ve told him more than I should.

 

“How old is she?”

 

I hesitate before answering. “She’s twenty.”

 

Peeta immediately smiles again, clearly fighting back a laugh.

 

“What’s so funny?” I demand.

 

He just shakes his head. “I thought she would be younger. You’re still taking care of your twenty-year-old sister?”

 

“I’m all she has!” I practically yell. Angry, I turn and swim towards the ladder to climb out of the pool. I normally would spend much longer in here, but I’m so irritated, so insulted by Peeta Mellark’s comments, that I don’t want to be here with him any longer.

 

“Wait! I didn’t mean to insult you. I promise. Please come back,” he pleads. I don’t know why, but I stop, right at the base of the ladder. But I don’t turn back. “I was just teasing you,” he continues.

 

I spin around and glare at him. “You don’t know me well enough to tease me,” I spit.

 

He looks taken aback as he thinks this over. Then he swims over so that he’s directly in front of me, a mere matter of inches away from my body. Why is he so close?

 

“You’re right,” he says. “I’m sorry. I guess I couldn’t help myself.”

 

Our eyes lock. A million responses must run through my mind, but not a single one comes out. Instead, I engage in this silent impasse as we each size the other up, working something out, but I don’t know what it is. But now that he’s right in front of me, I realize how tall he is, how broad his shoulders are. He’s so close that even in the darkness, I can see the blond hair on his chest that reflects off the light coming from inside the hotel. I realize my back is pressed solidly against the ladder; my breath is hitched in my throat. Something about him terrifies me, yet I know I’m not in any danger.

 

“Good night,” I mutter curtly, then turn and climb swiftly out of the pool.

 


	2. Chapter 2

When I wake the next morning, the memory of Peeta Mellark in the pool is the first thing that comes to my mind. I clench my eyes shut as a whole host of different feelings rush through me at the thought. Some are negative -- just what was he doing exactly last night? Aside from the obvious, I mean. I know he was there to swim. But was he really? I can’t help thinking it’s a little too coincidental that he would show up at the same time I just so happen to be swimming. And then Darius’s words snap immediately to mind. He sure seemed taken with you.

 

Surely, that can’t be what that was all about last night. Can it? I revisit the events of last night. He did get close at the end. Right up in my space, so that he was only inches away from me. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. And then there was the teasing if you can call it that. It just as easily could be prodding. And if the rumors are true, couldn’t it be possible he was fishing for information? Then again, if the rumors are true, that’s all the more reason for me to stay away from him.

 

I meet Prim for breakfast at my usual coffee shop. There’s a little kitchen in my suite, but I’m not much of a cook, and meals are on the house because of who I am. Most people recognize me, but in the morning, for some reason, they leave me alone.

 

You think you’re so famous that you can’t swim without being harassed?

 

A ripple of anger courses through me at the memory of Peeta’s comment last night. Who does he think he is? I’m famous enough, aren’t I? Or am I? Is he right? Is that the real reason no one bothers me when I’m eating breakfast in the morning?

 

“Katniss,” Prim says, her voice hushed, “that man is staring at us.”

 

“Where?” I ask. The way she says it makes me nervous, but I’m not going to lie. I feel a little vindicated as well. If a man is staring over here, it’s probably because he recognizes me, right? Because he probably saw me perform last night, and didn’t expect to see me sitting here, eating breakfast like anyone else. Take that, Peeta Mellark, I think triumphantly to myself.

 

“Over there,” she nods in a direction off to the side, being careful not to call too much attention to the fact that she’s doing so. I follow her eyes, until my own land on the subject in question. A blond man sits alone in a booth. I know this man.

 

When Peeta Mellark’s eyes meet mine, they flit away immediately. I feel my stomach twist in knots. So I was wrong, then, about being recognized because I’m famous. And not only was I wrong, but the very person who I thought I was triumphing over was the one who was watching me.

 

A smile plays at the corner of Prim’s mouth. “You do think he’s cute!”

 

This is enough to snap me back to reality. “What?” I tear my gaze away, and fix it on her, trying to figure out what on earth she’s talking about.

 

She just smiles, looking proud of herself. “You should see the way you’re looking at him,” she says.

 

“How am I looking at him?” I ask, feeling confused. Because I really feel like I’ve lost control of everything going on around me by now.

 

“Like you can’t stop looking at him. You’re staring at him. You never stare at men,” she says.

 

Oh, is that all. “I don’t think he’s cute,” I insist. “I just… don’t know what to think about him, honestly. He’s a bit strange.”

 

“How so?” She asks, looking interested.

 

I tell her, briefly, and in hushed tones, about my encounter with him the night before. But Prim doesn’t seem to find it strange at all. If anything, she seems to think it’s further proof that she’s right.

 

“Katniss,” she says pointedly like she can’t believe I’m missing the most obvious thing in the world. “He was flirting with you.”

 

“I don’t think he was,” I say. I want to tell her why, how there’s the rumor going around that he’s a plant for the FBI, and if anything, he was probably just trying to get information from me. But I would have to tell her about what really goes on around here, and I do my best to keep shield Prim from that world.

 

Because of this, Prim ends up rolling her eyes at me. “I don’t understand why you always refuse to think anyone might be interested in you,” she says as she begins to cut into her pancakes. “It’s not that strange to think they might be, you know.”

 

I feel my cheeks burn at her words, but I can’t place why. She’s… right, I guess. I suppose it isn’t all that strange to think someone might be interested in me. Not in theory, at least. But that’s… that’s just beside the point! It isn’t about that at all. It’s about her safety. Why she would think it was anything otherwise is… it’s just not true.

 

Giving my head a little shake to clear it, I fix her with a stern look. “Never you mind,” I say firmly. “I just have my reasons for it. Alright?”

 

“Alright.” But I can tell by the way she draws the word out that she isn’t okay with it at all.

  
  


To my relief, I don’t see Peeta Mellark again that day. Not when I return for lunch that afternoon, not for my supper, or at the dinner show. It’s a relief to be able to avoid him for the entire day because I’m not sure what I would possibly say to him. Even so, I know there’s the possibility of running into him at the pool tonight. Which would be the worst place to run into him of all. 

 

“Want to play cards?” I ask Prim.

 

“Aren’t you going for a swim?” She asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

 

I shrug. “I don’t feel like it tonight,” I say, trying to sound as casual as I possibly can. “I just want to relax here.”

 

It’s clear from the way she looks at me that she doesn’t believe me at all. But she doesn’t fight it. Maybe she just figured, after this morning, it wouldn’t be worth the trouble. Or maybe she’s saving it for another time when she thinks I’d be more willing to listen. Well, the joke is on her, because I never intend to listen.  Regardless of whatever my opinion of Peeta Mellark might be, he’s too dangerous for me to be around. Not until he proves that nothing about him would threaten the lives I’ve worked so hard to build, to protect, for Prim and me. 

 

The next night, I’m tempted to pull the same thing. In fact, I already have the deck of cards in hand while I weigh it out in my mind. I don’t want to go to the pool. No, that’s not true. I do want to swim. I already miss it after skipping last night. What I don’t want is to run into Peeta Mellark. I glance at my sister, who is absorbed in a book. There’s no way Prim would believe me for the second night in a row. She barely believed me last night. No, there is only one way to avoid her prodding. I have to face the pool, whether Peeta is there or not.

 

To my relief, the pool is empty. I let out the breath I had been holding the entire short trip from my suite to the room. It looks like I’m safe. For now. But maybe not for long. The pool was empty the last time I came, too, wasn’t it? He didn’t show up until well after I’d already gone in the pool.

 

I stand there, right on the edge of the pool, staring down into its murky depths while I try to decide what to do. I could go back right now. That way, I would definitely avoid him. If he shows, that is. Either way, though, it would be win-win. But then what would Prim think? I only just left; if I returned already, she would definitely know something was up. Unless I gave her another reason for my returning so soon. Maybe I could tell her the pool was closed for construction or something.

 

No. I can’t lie to her. I can’t run forever. And I’m here, now, and wasting precious swimming time without my audience. I decide I might as well go for it. If Peeta Mellark shows up, well, I’ll deal with it then. I can always just leave once the normal social graces have been exchanged.

 

The pool feels heavenly. It’s still warm from the full day in the desert heat. I jet back and forth on my back, staring up at the night sky. I can’t help glancing around my surroundings every couple of minutes, just to make sure that I’m still alone. But no one ever comes.

 

I swim for what must be a good hour before I decide to retire for the evening and head back to the room. Still no sign of the accountant, or anyone else for that matter. Good. 

 

I do see him again the next morning at breakfast. But every time I sneak a glance over in his direction, he isn’t looking. Except for one time, when I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I caught his eyes flitting away as soon as he saw me turn in his direction.

 

Later in the day, I pass him in the hallway, but he acts like he doesn’t even see me. Which annoys me to no end, but maybe that was his goal. Or maybe, if the rumors are true, he knows it’s better to leave me alone after all. 

 

But that doesn’t seem to stop him from making an appearance at my show later that night. At first, I think he isn’t there, but then I spot him, there, in the back of the theater, nearly in shadow. He sits there, concentrating on his steak, on his beer, and only glances up at the stage every once in awhile. But somehow, I just know he’s paying more attention than he lets on.

 

What’s he up to? Suddenly, my mind in sizzling with thoughts, trying to figure it out. It nearly distracts me to the point of messing up my performance. Luckily, I could do this routine in my sleep. But for the first time, I find myself actually wishing he would join me in the pool tonight. Maybe then I could talk to him more, try to figure out what his angle is. What he wants from me. Because somehow, I don’t believe he’s here at this show because the food is prime.

 

Then I try to shrug it off, because what does it matter? As long as he’s not bothering me, he shouldn’t be a threat at all. Right?

 

During the day, I try to distract myself by spending time with my sister. Or Darius. Or any number of the people on the property. It works, for a short amount of time. Until payday arrives, at least, and I have to go to the business offices to pick up my paycheck.

 

Peeta Mellark himself is sitting at the small desk where we pick up our checks, the designated person to sign off and ensure that no funny business happens. Seems appropriate. He’s perfect for that sort of thing. Just wholesome enough that he would see to it that no one messed around doing anything they weren’t supposed to. But just big enough that no one would try to mess with him in return for enforcing the rules. Really, he’s pretty strong. His shoulders are broad, and I can’t help thinking back to that night at the pool a few nights ago when I saw him in nothing but his swim shorts. He was almost surprisingly muscular. I know that’s how Snow wants them if they’re going to be in charge of his money in particular. But for some reason, I hadn’t had Peeta pegged as being quite so… brawn.

 

“Name?” He asks as I approach the table. There’s a glint in his eye as he says it; I know he knows who I am. I know he knows I know who I am. But I go along with whatever little game he’s playing.

 

“Katniss Everdeen,” I say plainly.

 

“Oh, right. The celebrity,” he grins as he glances down at his list. “I didn’t recognize you amongst us peons.”

 

I can’t help letting out a loud sigh. “Can I just pick up my check, please?”

 

“What? You don’t have people to pick it up for you?” he asks, shaking his head. “Some celebrity.”

 

“I live right here in the hotel!” I say.

 

“Oh, so then you would have people to do it for you? If it weren’t so convenient that you suppose you can do it for yourself?”

 

“Would you hurry it up, please?” A gruff voice calls from the back. I can’t help feeling grateful. I couldn’t agree more. 

 

“Yes, can we? No one else here cares so much about what I do for a living.”

 

He raises an eyebrow, that stupid grin still plastered across his face. “Seems to me the only one who really cares is you,” he says as he hands me the check. I glare at him before stomping away. He doesn’t say anything further, but I swear, I can just feel him gloating behind me, hear the laughter in his voice as he asks the next person in line for their name.

 

Why am I so surprised when I see him at my show again that night? He accuses me of being taken with my supposed fame, but he’s the one who shows up here practically every night.

 

“What’s wrong?” Prim asks me later. I’m still fuming over the entire thing.

 

“Nothing,” I try to wave her off.

 

“You’re not acting like it’s nothing,” she says. “I can tell when you’re upset. Come on. Tell me. What’s wrong?”

 

I don’t want to tell her. Mainly because I’m pretty sure I know what she’s going to say. But I also know she won’t leave me alone until she gets it out of me. So I relent,  and against my better judgment, I tell.

 

When I’ve finished telling her about the incident picking up my paycheck today, I can tell Prim is trying her hardest to suppress a smile. In fact, it’s probably safe to say she’s trying not to burst out laughing. “Stop it,” I tell her, annoyed.

 

“Stop what?” she asks. And she looks genuinely confused.

 

“I know what you’re thinking. Stop it,” I say again.

 

Prim just shakes her head. “He’s teasing you, Katniss.”

 

“Obviously,” I say sarcastically, really beginning to feel irritated at this point. “But why won’t he just leave me alone?”

 

“Do I really have to tell you?” she asks, looking half amused, half genuinely surprised.

 

“He is not flirting with me,” I insist.

 

“He is!” she says.

 

I shake my head, refusing to agree to this. There’s no way that’s what’s going on right now. “If he’s flirting with me, why does he keep poking fun at me for my job?”

 

“I don’t know,” she admits. “Maybe he just thinks it’s cute when you get flustered. Guys do that.”

 

“Gale never did,” I say peevishly, feeling a little upset that my younger sister evidently knows more about this kind of thing than I do.

 

“Yeah, well, Gale was Gale. And he did tease you sometimes. Even I remember that.”

 

I say nothing because of course, she’s right. Gale did tease me sometimes, though it was nowhere near to the extent that Peeta Mellark does so now. “That was different,” I say after a moment, much more quietly.

 

To my surprise, Prim nods her head. “Yes. It does sound like there’s something different about the way he’s teasing you. But Gale was a serious guy for the most part. Maybe Peeta isn’t quite so serious. At any rate, it’s classic flirting.”

 

“Why do you think he’s flirting?” I ask.

 

“Why wouldn’t he be flirting?” she counters. I can’t think of any good response to this, so I just stay quiet. Prim continues. “Katniss, why do you find it so hard to believe that anyone might be interested in you?”

 

“I don’t,” I say weakly.

 

“I think you do,” she says gently. “You haven’t seen anyone since you lost Gale. At first, I thought, of course, you’re in mourning, it makes sense you wouldn’t want to start seeing someone new. But now I think there’s more to it.”

 

I don’t know why, but this is enough to anger me to the point of shutting down. “I’m fine,” I insist, a little more defensively than I intended.

 

I can see in her eyes that I’ve gone a little too far. “Okay… “ she says. “I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help.”

 

That’s the thing. I know she is. Prim only wants the best for me, has only ever wanted the best for me. And I’ve only ever wanted the best for her. We’re all we have left in this world. But part of the lengths I’ve gone through to protect her means there are things she can’t know for her own safety. And I know those issues are playing into why I’m so adamant nothing can happen between Peeta Mellark and myself. The trouble is trying to make Prim understand without cluing her in on what really goes on around here.

 

“No,” I shake my head. “I’m sorry for being so rude to you.” This seems to lighten her mood.

 

“All right,” she agrees. “But I still think you should give him a chance.”

 

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “Get to bed,” I tell her. She laughs as she heads to her room.

  
  
  


The following day is a day off for me. I don’t normally have a whole lot I do on these days. Usually, I use them to hole myself off in my room and recover from the energy it takes to perform in front of large crowds on all the other nights.

 

For some reason, I have an unusually hard time sleeping that night. I toss and turn for a good couple of hours until I give up. I decide to go for a walk. Prim seems to be fast asleep still. She shouldn’t miss me. I grab a jacket and slip outside.

 

It’s good to be out here alone. I almost never come out this early in the morning. The casino is technically 24 hours, but by now, even most of the guests have retired to bed. Only the most lonely souls tend to be awake now, forgetting their woes with the roulette tables. Even if it never really works out for them.

 

I guess I could head to the casino, or explore the hallways of the rest of the hotel. Instead, my feet instinctively carry me to the pool. It’s so peaceful at night anyway, and I’m not really in the mood to deal with anybody. Especially if they’re particularly ornery, which I’m afraid someone in the casino might turn out to be. 

 

That’s why I’m surprised when, as I draw closer to the pool, I think I hear the sound of someone swimming laps. At first, I’m convinced it must be my imagination--who in their right mind would be swimming out here at this time of night? Or really, morning, I should say, as it’s got to be closer to 5 AM. But who knows? Vegas attracts some strange people. 

 

The moon casts sideways shadows on the pool, making it look almost disorienting. I narrow my eyes, trying to make out the figure in the darkness of whoever is swimming in the pool. But apparently, I wasn’t as cautious as I thought, because before I even have a chance to figure out, a familiar pair of blue eyes land on me, looking startled.

 

Peeta Mellark comes to a stop mid-stroke, angling himself in the water so that he stands on his legs as he looks at me. “What are you doing out here?” he asks.

 

“Me?” I ask, feeling oddly defensive. “What are you doing out here?”

 

He looks all around him before he answers. “Swimming, of course. Obviously.”

 

“Yes, obviously,” I repeat back sarcastically. “But why? It’s so early.”

 

He wrinkles his brow as he stares at me like he can’t believe I’m even asking such a stupid question. “To stay away from you, of course,” he explains.

 

“Excuse me?” I must have heard him wrong. To stay away from me? I turn on my heel and begin stomping away quickly, feeling offended. Now I know Prim was wrong about him. If he’s swimming at ridiculous hours of the morning just because he doesn’t want to be around me, then obviously he isn’t flirting with me.

 

“Wait,” I hear him call out. Against my better judgment, I stop. But I don’t turn around. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

 

This piques my interest, I’ll admit. I look back over my shoulder at him. “Oh yeah? Then how did you mean it?” I ask, not ready to be completely open to whatever he has to say just yet.

 

“You didn’t like it when I went swimming at the same time as you,” he explains. “So I decided to start swimming early in the morning instead.”

 

This pulls me up short since it’s not what I was expecting at all. “But it’s so early. Why don’t you just swim during the day, like everyone else?”

 

He just shrugs. “I don’t know. I just like it when there’s no one else out here. It’s more peaceful.”

 

For a brief moment, I feel myself softening. Because I relate. Boy, do I ever relate. It’s exactly the same reason I like to swim alone, too. It isn’t about being recognized by other people, not really. Though that is part of it. But even before this happened, I always preferred doing things away from most people, because things really are more peaceful that way. “Oh,” I murmur softly. “Yeah.”

 

But apparently, Peeta can’t let it be a brief moment of understanding between us. “Of course, I don’t have fans like you,” he says. “We can’t all have that problem.”

 

Furious, I spin around to stare him down, straight in those blue eyes of his. “What is the matter with you?” I spit at him. “What’s your problem with me?”

 

Peeta actually looks taken aback. “With you?” He stammers, looking like he can’t wrap his mind around what I just said. “That’s exactly what I should be asking you. Why don’t you like me?”

 

Huh? That actually does get me, though the last thing I’m going to do right now is let him know that. “What do you mean? You’ve done nothing but make snide comments towards me since you’ve met me.”

 

To my surprise, Peeta actually looks concerned. “What? No- I didn’t mean them that way- “ he starts to explain.

 

“Then how did you mean them?” I’m quick to interject, ready to challenge him, sick of feeling so… judged by him, all the time. 

 

Now he looks, of all things, embarrassed. “I was just joking with you. Trying to tease you,” he says. “I didn’t mean to actually make you feel bad.”

 

“You didn’t,” I quickly say, even though he’ll probably never believe it at this point. 

 

“Well… I’m sorry all the same. Okay?”

 

It takes me a long moment to think this over. I look him up and down as he stands in the pool, looking up at me, waiting for my response. He looks genuine. But how do I know? This isn’t what I expected from him at all. I thought there would be more derisive comments to cut me down to size. Though, if I’m to believe Peeta now, that’s not how he meant them at all. But I certainly did not expect a real apology.

 

“All right,” I agree at last. Then I turn and begin to walk away.

 

“You’re leaving?” Peeta sounds confused behind me.

 

“Yeah. It’s late. And cold,” I say, feeling a little awkward for some reason. He doesn’t say anything as I exit the pool area and start on the path that leads back to my suite. I don’t look back at him, but somehow I get the feeling that he’s still watching me.

 

“Katniss… wait.”

 

I stop in my tracks. Has he really followed me? I turn around, and sure enough, there he is, standing there, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel as he hurries to catch up. Not sure what to do, I just stand there and wait for him to reach me.

 

“Listen,” he says when he’s finally in front of me. “I really am sorry- I want to apologize. I truly didn’t mean to offend you,” he says earnestly.

 

“Oh… it’s… all right,” I say, feeling a bit baffled. 

 

“Please, let me make it up to you,” he says.

 

I just look at him. “How?” I ask suspiciously.

 

He just shrugs. “I don’t know. Let me buy you a drink or something. The bar should still be open in the casino, right?”

 

“Yes,” I agree. “It’s 24 hours.”

 

“Then let me take you. Please?” 

 

I’m not quite sure what to do at this point. Do I go with him? Should I refuse, and go back to bed? “I’m not really dressed for the casino,” I say. It’s true; I’m still technically in my nightgown, and only half covered by my jacket.

 

“I’ll wait while you get dressed,” he smiles. “If you’ll agree to go, that is.”

 

I stare at him, weighing out in my mind that pros and cons of going with him. Finally, I decide just to do it. What could it hurt? At the very least, maybe he’ll think I see him as a friend and give away some kind of valuable information. Snow would love it if I’d tell him whatever I could find out about the new accountant. “All right,” I relent. “Wait right here.”

 

Back in my suite, I slip into a comfortable pair of pants and a button up shirt and thrown on a pair of brown loafers. Then I join Peeta outside. He smiles when he sees me. We walk side by side in silence as we enter the hotel.

 

It’s always a bit eerie to be in the casino at such off hours. I don’t do it much, but the few times I have been in here really late, or really early, it’s always struck me how different it feels compared to the daytime. Only the lost souls are still out at this hour. The ones who have given up on life, pinning their last hopes on the off chance the slot machine, or roulette table, or whatever their poison of pick is, will bring them luck.

 

“So,” Peeta says as we take a seat at stools at the bar. “What’s good here?”

 

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I don’t really come here often.”

 

“No?” Peeta smiles at me as the bartender arrives and asks for our order. “Tom Collins for both of us, please,” he tells the bartender.

 

As he walks away, I give Peeta a look. “You’re ordering for me?”

 

He smiles, but at the same time looks a bit embarrassed. “Sorry. I thought you didn’t know what you wanted.”

 

I don’t say anything because of course, it’s true. 

 

“You’ll like a Tom Collins,” he promises me. “It’s good.”

 

“What’s in it?” I ask.

 

“Gin,” he says. “And lemon juice, club soda.”

 

I nod, as the bartender makes his way back, setting a glass of the drink in question before each of us. I watch as Peeta takes a drink out of his, then reach for my own and gingerly try it for myself. “Not bad,” I say.

 

He smiles. “I told you. You really don’t come here much?”

 

I shake my head. “I don’t spend much time in the casino, period.”

 

He gets a lop-sided grin. “Because you’re afraid you’ll be recognized?”

 

“That’s not why.” I frown at him.

 

“I’m teasing you,” he says. “Sorry. I’ll stop with the jokes.”

 

I just look at him. “Why do you keep dwelling on it, anyhow?” I ask.

 

He looks a bit surprised at the question; his cheeks even flush a little. “Why? I don’t know. Maybe I just like to see you squirm.”

 

“You like to see me squirm?” Now, for some stupid reason, I feel my own cheeks begin to grow warm. I look away quickly and pretend to concentrate on the drink in my hand. 

 

“So why don’t you like coming to the casino?” He asks again. I’m grateful that at least he's changing the subject. Maybe he can tell it was making me uncomfortable. 

 

“Oh… I don’t know,’ I say. “It’s just too noisy, I guess. And crowded. And no, it’s not because I’m afraid of being recognized,” I warn before he even has a chance to get it out.

 

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he says, though the gleam in his eyes suggests otherwise. “You don’t like crowds much in general, do you?” He sounds more serious now.

 

“No,” I admit. “They’re not really my thing.”

 

“It’s not crowded now,” he points out.

 

I glance around the room, which is mostly empty, save for a few occupied tables and machines here and there. “I don’t think too many people like to gamble before breakfast.”

 

“No,” he agrees. “Just the ones who probably shouldn’t be here in the first place. But if you live here, don’t you even find it fun to come in here to gamble from time to time?”

 

Now I feel a little embarrassed. “Um… I don’t really know how to gamble,” I confess. 

 

“You don’t?” He asks, looking genuinely surprised. “You’ve lived here this long, and you never learned to gamble?”

 

I shake my head.

 

“Well, I’ll teach you.”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” I insist, suddenly feeling a little panicked. Why, though, I can’t quite place my finger on.

 

“I know. But it’ll be fun. Come on, let me show you.”

 

I hesitate, before deciding to give in. What could be the harm, really? At this rate, I doubt I’m going to be going back to sleep anyways. And it’s so quiet in here now, it’s really the perfect time. So I agree. Peeta calls the bartender over to pay for our drinks. I try to have mine put on my suite, but Peeta insists on paying for it as well as his. “For good luck,” he says nonchalantly.  That seems like an odd way to bring about good luck, but I let him do it anyways.

 

Our Tom Collins still in hand, I follow Peeta across the room to an empty poker table. I sit beside him, and while the dealer passes out the cards, Peeta tries to explain the rules to me. 

 

“You playing, too, sweetheart?” the dealer, a stout man with dark hair and olive skin asks me. One look at him, and I know, immediately, that he’s as Sicilian as I am. Maybe even more so, since my mother wasn’t actually Sicilian at all. 

 

I panic for a second, feeling like a deer caught in the headlights as he practically glares at me, waiting for my response. I helplessly glance over at Peeta, seeking guidance. He just nods, encouraging me. “Um, yes, I suppose I am,” I mumble to the dealer. After he passes his cards to me and turns away from us for a moment, I turn back to Peeta. “Um… I didn’t bring any cash with me… “

 

He just slaps some cash down on the table. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on me,” he says.

 

“I can pay you back once I get back to the room,” I tell him.

 

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just grabs his deck of cards and looks them over. His face is unreadable. Trying not to make it too obvious I have no idea what I’m doing, I copy his move and reach across the table for my own hand. There’s a King, two Three’s, a Seven, and a Ten. 

 

Peeta starts by laying his cards out on the table. Then he looks at me, waiting for me to do the same. I select three, trying to remember the best I can his instructions. Peeta wins, and another round is dealt. It goes like this for a couple more tries, until it becomes really obvious I still don’t know what I’m doing.

 

Peeta looks a little unsure, as though he’s trying to decide on something. Then he relents. “Let me see your hand,” he tells me.

 

“No. You’ll see what I have!” I pull my hand away from him.

 

“You need help, though,” he insists.

 

I hesitate, because he’s right, I could use someone’s help with this. And he’s probably more trustworthy than the dealer would be. I decide to go ahead and let him see them. He looks them over carefully, while the dealer watches the whole thing.

 

“That’s cheating, you know,” the dealer says.

 

“So have me arrested, Haymitch,” Peeta shoots back. It surprises me for two reasons. One, that he’s so bold with the dealer after such an accusation. And two, that evidently he and the poker dealer know each other well enough to be on a first name basis. 

 

“I could, you know, kid,” the dealer known as Haymitch shoots back. “If I didn’t guess you weren’t just trying to impress your new friend over here.”

 

There’s an awkward silence, as Peeta and I both fall silent for a minute. “She’s never played before,” Peeta says finally, not looking either of us in the eyes. “I’m just showing her.”

 

Haymitch snorts but doesn’t say anything else. But under Peeta’s additional guidance, I have to say the game does start to make more sense. I begin to make what seem like better moves, but somehow, I still manage to be losing every time.

 

“Why do I keep losing?” I ask finally, frustrated.

 

Haymitch tries to hold back a laugh, but I catch the way he and Peeta glance at each other. “What?” I ask them.

 

They share another glance, like they’re not sure if they should tell me or not. Then Peeta gives in. “It’s just… we can read it on your face. What cards are in your hand.”

 

“What?” I’m embarrassed, and I feel my cheeks begin to burn, which means I must be blushing. Great, now I’m just reinforcing what they’re saying further. 

 

Both of them are laughing at me. “It’s not funny!” I all but yell at them both, not caring anymore to keep it too quiet.

 

Haymitch keeps laughing, but Peeta attempts to be serious, in an obvious attempt to mollify me. “All right. I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s not funny.”

 

I just glare at him. “I’m going back home,” I tell him.

 

“Why?” He asks, looking legitimately concerned now. “Because we were teasing you? I’m sorry, I thought you’d just laugh it off.”

 

Taking another drink from my glass, I turn my glare across the room as I try to decide if I should stay or if I should go. Am I crazy? This is ridiculous. Why am I even here in the first place? How on earth did Peeta Mellark convince me to go to the casino with him before the sun was even up? And even so… even so, I’m still not sure if I should leave.

 

“Come on,” he urges. “We can do something else. If you’ll just stay. Please?”

 

Why does he want me to stay so much? I’m not sure, but he’s so earnest in his attempts to get me to stay that I’m almost ashamed to admit it works. “All right,” I relent at last.

 

He smiles, looking pleased with himself as he turns and pays Haymitch what we owe, and collects whatever meager winnings he’s won. Then he ushers me away. “What would you like to learn now?” He asks as he smiles at me.

 

“I don’t know,” I admit. “This was your idea, remember?”

 

“True,” he agrees. “Maybe we should start with something more simple. Do you play the slots much?”

 

“No.” I don’t do even that much very often, and I’ll admit I’ve never really understood them. He immediately crosses to the closest machines and sits at a seat. I take the empty chair next to him and watch as he begins his next lesson. It still doesn’t make much sense, but it seems a lot more simple than poker. And no one will make any comments about how they can guess what I’m thinking.

 

“You’re good at this,” I say to Peeta as I watch him pull the lever after betting on a row. “Do you do this a lot?”

 

He just shrugs. “I suppose so. It’s lonely around here, when you don’t really know anyone.”

 

Huh. I never really gave that much thought, how Peeta was getting along. I do know that he’s not from around here originally. Not that that’s anything out of the ordinary, since most of us here aren’t from Vegas originally. Oh, some of the locals work here, sure, but a lot of them prefer to keep their distance. But Peeta’s comment strikes a chord with me. I feel sort of bad, thinking about the implication that he doesn’t really have anyone. It makes me feel bad for being so cold towards him before, when maybe all he was looking for was a friend.

 

“It can be lonely around here even when you do know people,” I say. It seems like such an odd comment to make, but for some reason, I know it’s the right thing to tell him. In fact, I see the corners of his mouth lift at my comment.

 

“Well, we have each other now, don’t we?” He flashes a grin at me.

 

I’m not really sure how to respond. I hadn’t really set out to make a friend. In fact, I’m not really sure what I had meant to do when I agree to come in here with him. But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to agree to be his friend. As long as I don’t let him get too close. Because what if the rumors about him being in the FBI really are true?

 

When I look over at him, the room spins a little. I guess the gin in this Tom Collins has finally started to take effect. It’s okay, though. The alcohol makes it easier to smile at him. 

 

He returns the smile. It lights up his entire face, and in the haze of the alcohol and bright, blinking lights reflecting off the slot machines, I notice for the first time what a pretty shade of blue his eyes are, as well as his long eyelashes. They’re every bit as blond as the curls on his head. How does he blink without them getting all caught up in each other, I wonder? I almost blurt this question out but catch myself just in the nick of time. I can’t quite put together why I’m glad I did, though. I guess I’ll figure that out in the morning, when I’m sober.  Or, later in the morning, I guess, since it’s morning right now.

 

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” Peeta jokes as he turns back and cranks the lever again 

 

“May the odds be ever in your favor,” I repeat, and I can’t help genuinely laughing. And then I catch myself, because I know if I’m not very careful with how I proceed with Peeta Mellark, I may accidentally let him too far into my heart after all. And the odds would certainly not be in my favor if I did.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

“Katniss! Where have you been?” Prim asks when I finally return to my suite later. The sun has already started to rise, and I can’t believe I’m already this drunk when most people haven’t even woken up yet. Not like my sister, though. Evidently, she gets up before the sun. I didn’t expect that, but it figures she would wake up early this morning of all mornings.

 

I give her a sheepish look. “On a walk,” I say, dropping my eyes. “I couldn’t sleep.” Okay, it’s not entirely a lie. That is how this whole thing started. But my pride won’t accept telling her the rest of the story right now. She’d just rub it in my face that she was right. Even if she still isn’t. Because nothing happened between Peeta and me in that casino except, maybe, a sort of friendship.

 

“Must have been a long walk,” she says, looking me up and down. I wonder just how long she’s been awake. “Why do you smell like smoke?”

 

“I went to the casino,” I admit. Still true, even if I am leaving out a few key details of what exactly happened there.

 

She gives me a skeptical look, and I can tell she doesn’t believe me. But she doesn’t press the issue, a fact for which I am grateful. “Well, you look exhausted now,” she says.

 

“I am,” I confess. At last, something I can tell her the full truth about, however small. I excuse myself to bed to get a couple more hours of sleep, feeling bad because I know I just told a lie of omission to my sister, and what for? I only lie when I know it’s necessary. Like what really happens behind the scenes with the casino. That I keep from her for her own safety. But this? I try to convince myself it’s also in her best interest, because if Peeta really is in the FBI then the less she knows, the better.

 

But as I flop down on my bed and sink into sleep, I know she’s just going to find out about it anyways. I’m just hiding it from her until I feel like I can get a handle on what’s going on myself.

  
  
  
  


When I awake, the room is flooded with sunlight. I turn towards the clock to see what time it is. Eleven thirty. Wow. I can’t believe I slept that long. I bring a hand up to my head, still feeling groggy. Why do I feel this way? I don’t normally sleep this late. And then the memories come flooding back.

 

In the clarity of daylight, I honestly can’t believe I did what I did. What on earth made me think going to gamble and drink with Peeta Mellark at 5 in the morning was a good idea? I’m almost embarrassed to admit, even to myself, what happened. I sit up, wondering what Prim is doing right now if she’s still here. I can’t remember if she said she was scheduled to work today or not. 

 

Sleeping this late is so unlike me, Prim must think I must be sick or something. Normally I’m an early riser, even despite the type of so-called “career” I have. I wonder how I’m going to explain all this to her. Telling her what happened is not going to do anything except convince her she was right about everything regarding Peeta. 

 

I drag myself out of bed, and slip on my bathrobe, tying it around my waist as I go out into the hallway. “Prim?” I call quietly, not entirely sure whether I want her to be there or not. It would certainly be easier if she wasn’t here. Give me some extra time to think about how to spin things so it doesn’t look like I went on a date at the crack of dawn.

 

Was I on a date? The thought startles me. No… there’s no way that was a date. It was too spontaneous, and dates are planned, right? I pour myself a glass of water as I think this over. Could it have been a date? How could I have been on a date, and not even known what was happening at the time?

 

No, it can’t have been. We had decided at the end that we were friends, right? Nothing more. Just friends. 

 

“Well, we have each other now, don’t we?” He said. Then my stomach twists as I realize the word friend had not been involved at all. So is that what Peeta thinks was happening? That we were out on a date?

 

I try not to panic, thinking things between us might have been misconstrued. I’m sort of jumping the gun on this, anyhow. Maybe Peeta doesn’t think anything of the sort. Maybe all it really had been was an attempt to reach out and make a friend. It can be awfully lonely, working here. Living here. 

 

I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. Be prepared to let him down gently if he thinks something is going on between us, but also don’t jump to any conclusions and accuse him of anything before he proves that it is, indeed, what he’s thinking. Taking the last gulp of water from my glass, I realize I’m famished. It’s clear that Prim isn’t here like I thought. She must be at work. Or maybe she’s just out, enjoying her summer break. I decide to head to the restaurant to get something to eat. Breakfast, or lunch, or whatever it would be at this point.

 

After pulling on a pair of pants and a blouse, I cross the courtyard that leads into the main building where the restaurant is housed. 

 

“Coffee, please,” I ask immediately as I take my seat at my usual table. The restaurant is just starting on its lunch rush, but I’m happy I made it in here in time to get my regular seat. I’m also glad that I have this time to myself, as much as I miss Prim. If nothing else, my head hurts, and I sort of want to go back to bed.

 

At five past noon, I realize it’s time for the offices to take their lunch break. The place fills with men in fancy suits, women in practical A-line skirts and freshly pressed blouses. I realize what this means just mere seconds before he walks through the door.

 

He spots me immediately. His eyebrows flash upwards, and he smiles, walking straight toward me. It’s too late to move, even if I wanted to.

 

“Hello again,” he says as he approaches my table. “Would it be alright if I joined you?”

 

I’m not normally in the practice of allowing people to join me for meals. But for some reason, I find myself letting him take a seat at my table. I suppose if there’s anyone else feeling what I must be feeling right now, it would be him.

 

“You must be exhausted,” I tell him. “You’re working today, too?”

 

“A little,” he smiles. “But I got a full night’s sleep before you found me in that pool.”

 

His comment makes me feel nervous like someone might overhear and figure out what we did this morning. But then I catch myself. We didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I feel so nervous about being found out?

 

“How about you?” He asks. “Did you get any sleep?”

 

“I only woke up a half an hour ago,” I admit. “I don’t know how you do it. Especially since we had a drink before you even started. Are you even supposed to do that?”

 

“I have been a little distracted this morning,” he confesses. “But I don’t think it was the drink.”

 

There’s something about this comment that catches me off guard. Unexpected warmth flushes through me. But there’s no time to examine why, when another voice interrupts our conversation.

 

“Katniss! Peeta Mellark,” Darius says, looking at us as he stands before our table. “I had no idea you two had gotten so close.”

 

“Oh, sure,” Peeta answers. “We’re old friends.”

 

“Since when?” Darius asks. 

 

“Since this morning,” Peeta says earnestly. 

 

I almost laugh at how confused Darius looks. I’ll say this for Peeta… he knows how to make a joke. “Would you like to join us?” I ask Darius.

 

“Don’t mind if I do,” he answers, pulling out a chair. He looks me over, before turning his attention to Peeta. “So, Peeta,” he says casually. “How is accounting going?”

 

“Not too bad,” Peeta says. “Can’t complain.”

 

Darius nods. “So what brought you out here to the desert?”

 

“I needed a job,” Peeta just shrugs. “And I’ve known Plutarch Heavensbee for some time. He recommended me. Couldn’t say no to working in the world famous Mockingjay, could I?”

 

Darius and I exchange a glance. This is the first I’ve heard about Peeta and Plutarch knowing each other outside this place. Neither of them has mentioned it before. Maybe there’s nothing to those rumors after all, then. Plutarch is one of Snow’s most trusted henchman.

 

“How do you know Plutarch, then?” Darius asks. He’s playing it cool, but I know Darius. He’s interrogating him.

 

“He’s an old friend,” Peeta says with a shrug. 

 

I glance at Darius to try and get a read on his opinion, but he doesn’t look at me. “How did you meet, if you don’t mind my asking?”

 

“The war.” This captures both our attention. I hadn’t pegged Peeta for being very much older than I am. I’m 24. If he was in the war I think he’s talking about, he had to have been very young when he joined up since it ended in 1945. 

 

“The Second World War?” I ask him.

 

“That’s right,” he nods. “I ran off and joined when I was 16.”

 

“What’d you do that for?” I ask, horrified. I can’t imagine wanting to join something like a war that badly that I would leave at such a young age.

 

“To get away from my mother, mostly,” he says. “Though at the time, I’ll admit I had delusions about fighting for some grander cause or something. At any rate, it didn’t last long. My leg got blown off almost as soon as I reached the battlefield, and I spent the last six months of the war doing paperwork.”

 

I remember noticing he had a prosthetic leg that first night at the pool. So that’s how he got it. “I’m sorry,” I say, and I genuinely mean it. “About your leg,” I clarify.

 

“I’ve adjusted,” he says with another shrug. “It still got me away from my mother, didn’t it?” He gives me a smile, and to my surprise, I feel that rush of warmth again.

I see Darius glance between us, which annoys me for some reason. He leans forward as if to purposely place himself between Peeta and me. “So how did you get from there to being an accountant here?” He asks. 

 

“Oh, I picked it up in the army offices. Then I just continued with it after the war was over. Plutarch worked the offices, too; that’s how I met him. We kept in contact over the years. I just knew it would pay off,” he says again, looking directly at me.

 

Darius glances at his watch. “I wish I could hear more,” he says. “But I’m late for a meeting. See you later, Katniss,” he says as he reaches over and gives my braid a gentle tug. “Good afternoon, Mr. Mellark,” he turns towards Peeta and gives him a more formal nod.

 

“Good afternoon,” Peeta says slowly and watches him walk away. Our conversation dies down considerably once we’re alone, which is torturous. I’m no good with small talk. I’m just asking Peeta if he could pass the butter, trying to rack my brain for something else to talk about, when Peeta blurts out a question. 

 

“Are you seeing each other?”

 

It’s all I can do not to drop the butter dish right there, that’s how much the question shocks me. “Pardon?” I ask, genuinely unsure I heard him correctly.

 

“Sorry,” he says, looking embarrassed. “I know it’s not any of my business. Just, the way he tugged on your braid… “

 

“Oh, that,” I say, wanting to laugh. “He always does that.”

 

“So… he’s flirting with you then.”

 

“What? No! I told you, that’s just how Darius is. He does it to all the women around here.” Peeta gives me a very pointed look.  “What?” I ask, feeling defensive.

 

“You said he does it to all women. And you don’t think he’s flirting?”

 

“Not if he’s doing it to everyone!” I say.

 

Peeta raises an eyebrow. I can tell he’s trying not to laugh.

 

“I don’t see why that’s so funny,” I say preemptively.

 

“I’m not laughing,” he says, throwing his hands up innocently.

 

“No. But I can tell you want to,” I counter.

 

“It’s just, Katniss- if a man teases women like that, he’s flirting.”

 

“That’s not true!” I say though I’m not really sure why I’m so defensive over this. “You tease me all the time.”

 

Peeta looks surprised, then sad, and then actually amused. “I do,” he admits. 

 

“What?” I ask, feeling like I’ve missed something.

 

“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head as he wipes off his mouth. “I should get back to the office.”

 

“All right,” I say, watching him as he gets up, still completely confused and feeling like there’s some joke involving me that I’m not in on. 

 

“Have a good afternoon, Katniss.” When he smiles at me, I still see traces of his amusement. But it’s genuine as well. Not so much like he’s laughing at my expense. 

 

I’m left alone at the table to try and piece together what on earth just happened. It has to have been the most bizarre lunch I’ve ever had in my life. I’m too groggy for all this. And it’s Peeta’s fault, ironically. I finish the rest of my meal in silence, thinking things over the best I can. Maybe I should just go back and take a nap. I’m useless today otherwise, and I have to perform tonight. 

 

I’ve just come home, and am sitting on the edge of my bed, removing my shoes, when it hits me. The reason why Peeta was laughing. “You tease me all the time,” I had said to him as if that was some sort of defense about why Darius wasn’t teasing me.

 

Peeta was laughing because he is flirting with me.

  
  
  
  


A few days go by. They’re mostly uneventful, except when Peeta shocks Prim by asking to join us for dinner. I make a point of avoiding her pointed gaze as he takes a seat. When she teases me about it later, I say nothing. Which I know just confirms it further in her mind. Honestly, I’m realizing she could be right about the whole thing. So it’s better if I just keep my mouth closed.

 

Sunday is my day off. The hotel is usually pretty quiet on Sundays -- most of the tourists have left for the weekend, leaving the place cleared out. So I’m actually allowed a break. 

 

I haven’t even gotten out the door of my suite before I encounter Peeta. He doesn’t even wait for me to get to breakfast before he comes seeking me out.

 

“This is a surprise,” I say when I see him standing at my door.

 

“Yes. I’m sorry to come here so early. But I was going to take a trip out to Hoover Dam, and I wanted to know if you would like to come along.”

 

Hoover Dam? I’ve been there a couple of times since moving out here. It’s impressive. Almost overly so. In fact, something about it is downright creepy. But I don’t have much else planned. “Today?” I ask.

 

“Yes,” he smiles at me. “Do you have plans already?”

 

I don’t. But I’m not sure that means I should go. “No,” I don’t know why I admit it, but getting away from the usual scenery would be nice. 

 

An hour later, I’m sitting in the front of Peeta’s car. The windows are rolled down, with a steady stream of air blowing in our faces. It feels nice, considering the summer heat.

 

“Have you been here before?” Peeta asks, taking his eyes off the road for a second to glance over at me.

 

“Yes,” I say. “A couple of times.”

 

“Oh,” he says, “so it won’t be anything new for you then.”

 

“No,” I agree. “I doubt much has changed.”

 

“Well, thank you for agreeing to come along with me anyways, then,” he says.

 

I say nothing because something about this situation still makes me feel uneasy. It’s not that I feel like I’m in any danger with Peeta -- quite the opposite, in fact. I actually feel quite safe when he’s around, I realize. It’s what will happen if Snow, or anyone else in his circle, finds out. When they find out, really, because let’s be honest: Snow will absolutely find out. If he doesn’t already know. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did.

 

Great. Now I’m worried about what will be waiting for me as soon as I get back.

 

I tell myself there’s no point in worrying about it now. What’s done is done, and we are already more than halfway there. 

 

Soon enough, Peeta pulls the car into an empty space in the parking lot used for tourists. He rounds the car to the passenger door to let me out, which is a little awkward since I’ve already begun opening it. 

 

“I’m used to doing it myself,” I admit.

 

“That’s ironic,” he smiles at me. “Considering how much I tease you for being a big famous celebrity.”

 

I can’t help laughing at this.

 

As we come in sight of the dam, Peeta lets out a loud whistle. “Wow. It really is as impressive as they say,” he says.

 

“Yes. It’s impressive. And maybe a little creepy,” I say, glancing up at the enormous cliff walls that rise up on either side of us. There’s a strange silence that seems to cover the place, even with as much traffic as this place sees. It’s eerie.

 

We come to a stop in front of two large winged creatures. Sculptures, from President Roosevelt’s dedication of the dam, when it first opened back in 1935. “Creepy isn’t a bad word for it,” Peeta says, tilting his head back to take in the entire thing once we’re at the base of the sculpture. “What are these things?”

 

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I say, not even bothering to look up at them. These things have always made me uncomfortable.

 

“They’re meant to be a dedication to the men who built the dam,” Peeta says as he reads over the plaque that’s set up in the middle of them. “No wonder they’re creepy. They’re practically a tombstone.”

 

“I hope not,” I say with a shiver. This place is eerie enough as it is already. I hope there aren’t bodies of men, lost in its construction, actually buried inside the walls of this thing.

 

We step out of the way and watch as a family huddles in front of the monument to take a picture. “Imagine that,” Peeta says to me, “having your family photo taken in front of that thing.”

 

“I can’t,” I say.

 

“Right. It seems too creepy.”

 

“No,” I interject. “I mean, I can’t imagine it because I won’t have a family.”

 

Peeta seems to be pretty taken aback by this declaration. He gives me a weird look. “You mean, not at all? Ever?”

 

“No,” I shake my head. “Not ever.”

 

“But… why not?”

 

I sigh, looking out at the dam as it stretches ahead of us. Can I really explain this to him in a way that would make sense? I’ve seen what happens to families when they’re involved in Cosa Nostra. I’ve seen too many fathers ripped away because a hit went wrong, or someone wanted them dead, or whatever whim that was at work that particular day. Not to mention losing Gale, who was taken out in a hit. That’s what I get, I suppose, for marrying someone also involved in the family. But I was young and I was desperate and I needed help. Help taking care of Prim, and help taking care of myself. 

 

That’s another reason I won’t be having any children. I don’t have a husband. I know that hasn’t stopped some women, but I don’t know how they do it. In this society, you more or less become a pariah if you have children out of wedlock. I’m already right on the fringe of society as it is.

 

But how do I tell this to Peeta, without giving the game away? I’ll have to do so very carefully. “I just… have lost too many people already,” I say.

 

“You think you’d lose your children as well?” he asks.

 

“You never know. In this world.” I say, feeling a little pathetic.

 

“You mean because of the mob.”

 

I snap my head to look at him. I’m shocked to hear him say it outright. My mouth falls open in an attempt to speak, but nothing comes out. But I force myself to talk because to not do so would be incriminating on its own. And I can’t confirm Peeta’s suspicions, no matter how true they might be. “Wha- What?” I stammer.

 

He just gives me a knowing smile. “That is why, isn’t it?”

 

“No!” I say, growing warm. “Of course not! How could you say such a thing?”

 

“Well, let’s see,” he says, pretending to look thoughtful. “Maybe because everyone knows The Mockingjay is secretly owned by the Mob. Plutarch’s just a front.”

 

“No!” I say a little too loudly. “That’s not true!”

 

“Isn’t it?” he asks. “You’re awfully defensive for it not to be the case.”

 

I open my mouth to argue, but quickly close it, realizing it would just further prove his point. He just grins as he watches me. “All right,” I say, attempting to switch tactics. “So what are you doing with me all the way out here, if you think I’m tied up with the mob?”

 

“I don’t know,” he says, still grinning. “Maybe I’m just trying to get dirt.”

 

“I don’t believe you,” I frown at him.

 

He doesn’t say anything, just holds that stupid grin. He’s teasing me now, clearly. Still, it makes me uneasy. How does Peeta know that? Is it really such common knowledge? And what exactly does he know about what’s really happening behind the scenes of The Mockingjay?

 

He’s in accounting, I realize. There’s a chance he may actually know a lot more about it than I had realized. “Do you know something?” I ask suddenly. “Is this something you learned in your job?”

 

His look of mirth quickly dissolves into one of conflict. I can tell I’ve caught him on something here. He does know something. “I can’t talk to you about the finances, Katniss. I’m sorry,” he says.

 

Well, that’s a load of shit. “You do know something,” I say with a gasp. “What is it?”

 

“Katniss,” he says, looking around us. “Even if I did tell you, do you think this is a good place for that kind of a conversation?”

 

Well, he’s got a point there. Any number of people around us come overhear what we’re talking about. And there’s no telling who any of these people are, or what connections of their own they have. Anyone here could work for the FBI, or for a newspaper, or any number of organizations that could potentially cause damage to the business.

 

“Let’s see the dam, shall we?” Peeta says in a transparent attempt to change the subject. I go along with it, though, because it is the safest thing to do at this point.

 

But as we walk along one side, looking out over the large valley and the Colorado River stretching below us, Peeta goes against his own advice. “So, what about you, Katniss? How did you get mixed up in all of this?”

 

I shoot him a look. “I thought we had decided this wasn’t a safe place to discuss any of this.”

 

Peeta laughs. “Touche. So how about you just tell me about your past, then. Leave out the parts you don’t want to be overheard.”

 

I frown, squinting my eyes as I look out beyond the horizon. “What do you want to know?”

 

“Everything,” he says. “For starters, I know you were once married. Tell me about that.”

 

It seems like a strange place to start. Peeta must suspect that Gale was tied up in the mob and that he was my connection. I basically told him as much, didn’t I? That night in the pool, when I told him about Gale knowing Snow? If Peeta knows the truth of what’s going on around the casino, it probably isn’t too hard to figure out why my husband knew Snow.

 

“He was a soldier,” I admit. “He was taken out during a hit.”

 

“Wow.” Peeta looks shocked.

 

“Well, isn’t that what you wanted to know?” I ask, looking over at him.

 

“Well… yes. And no. But I meant wow, as in, wow, that’s horrible.”

 

“Oh,” I say, returning my gaze to the scene in front of me. “Yeah, I suppose. You get kind of used to it when you grow up in it.”

 

“Grow up in it?” Peeta repeats.

 

I nod. “My father. He was in it, too. Got taken out when I was just a kid. Then my mother lost it and got sent to one of those hospitals. I was left to take care of Prim.” I dare to glance over at Peeta, expecting to see one of his looks, like maybe he had been suspecting this all along, or like this is something he can file away for further use. But he surprises me when he actually looks sympathetic. 

 

“You took care of her by yourself? How old were you?”

 

“Eleven,” I admit. 

 

“Eleven?!” Peeta looks both horrified and impressed.

 

“Yes,” I confirm. “Eleven years old.”

 

“How- how on earth did you take care of you and your little sister when you were only eleven?” he asks.

 

“I did what it took to keep us alive,” I say. 

 

“And what was that?” Peeta looks like he isn’t even sure he wants to know the answer to that.

 

“Scavenged, at first,” I say. “Then when we entered the war, I got a job in one of the factories. Then Gale - my husband - his father was an associate and friend of my father. When they found out we were on our own, they took us in. I still worked, though. Then, when I was old enough, I married Gale.”

 

“Did you love him?” he asks.

 

“What?” I look over at Peeta, surprised by the question. It seems like such a strange one to ask, given the nature of the story I’m telling him. “I don’t know. Sure.”

 

Peeta raises an eyebrow. “Wow. I can tell you must have been crazy about him.” There is no mistaking the sarcasm in his tone.

 

“We were friends,” I say, feeling defensive. “I trusted him. I knew he’d take care of us. What’s wrong with that?”

 

“Nothing, I guess,” he concedes. “I suppose it’s just that I would rather marry for love.”

 

Love? I frown. Right now, I can tell Peeta came from a regular, traditional family, from a traditional town in Nebraska. Peeta probably never had to worry about having enough to eat at all. Or that he might wake up one morning and any of the few people he’s actually allowed in his life may have been taken out in gunfire from a rival gang overnight. Love. “That’s a luxury that I’ve never been able to afford,” I say.

 

He looks sad. “Never?”

 

I look over into those blue eyes of his. They reflect the sadness, the intensity with which he’s observing me. Something about it makes my stomach twist. “It’s too risky,” I say.

 

“How so?” He doesn’t blink; doesn’t move his eyes at all away from mine.

 

“Because,” I swallow, steadying myself. My heart has started beating fast, for some reason. I know, without understanding why that I have to get control of myself. “I’d probably just lose them anyway.”

 

“Not everyone is going to leave, Katniss,” he says.

 

“You don’t know that,” I say. Because there’s no controlling it. They’re taken out in gunshots in the streets, or in the car of someone they thought they could trust. Restaurants, barber shops -- you name it. You make the wrong person angry, and there’s a hit ordered on you before you can do anything to stop it. I tear my eyes away, and look back out at the river stretching before me, trying, and failing, to stop the tears that begin falling from my eyes.

 

There’s a heavy silence before Peeta speaks again. “I’m sorry, Katniss,” he murmurs. “I’m so sorry you went through all of that.”

 

I want to say something, some sort of harsh, sarcastic response to make him back off. But I don’t. Instead, I just cry harder. I feel movement beside me. Peeta holds his arms out, and before I can even consider if it’s a good idea or not, I find myself inside them, burying my face in his chest.

 

“It’s all right,” he says in a soothing voice. “It’s all right.” He begins stroking his hand through my hair gently. It’s comforting. What am I doing here? Why am I crying in the arms of this stranger over my past? Why was it so easy for me to tell it to him? Especially considering all the suspicions there are surrounding him. I never tell anyone about my past, unless I’ve known them for a very long time and feel safe enough to tell them. What am I doing, opening up to Peeta Mellark after having known him for less than a week?

 

Tears streaming down my face, I look up at him from my spot in his shirt. His eyes meet mine; gentle, kind. There’s something in them that makes me trust him. Is that even a good idea? Some rational part of me screams that it’s not, but I’m not paying any attention. Because when Peeta’s lips meet mine, I don’t push away. Not even a little. 

 

I feel something begin to stir inside me. Warm and curious. It battles with the nerves building up; something twists in my stomach, and I don’t know if it’s from a reaction to the kiss, or the part of me that knows this is wrong. I should push him away; I should. But when I move my arms, breaking the tight grasp I have on his shirt, it’s to move them up and wrap them around his neck. I move closer to him, not further away. His hand stays entwined in my hair, the sensation sending chills throughout my whole body. His other arm holds me securely in place. And I realize, maybe this is a bad idea, maybe it’s completely dangerous. But I have never felt as safe in anyone’s arms as I do right now. 

 

There’s a brief interlude where we come up for air, pulling minimally apart. I can still feel the breath from his mouth. I can practically breathe it in. We’re both completely still as if neither of us can fully take in what is happening, what we’re doing. And then he kisses me again. 

 

“This is dangerous,” he murmurs a moment later. As if he isn’t the one who instigated all this in the first place. But he’s right, and on some level, I’m relieved to know he realizes it. 

 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” I agree. But it doesn’t stop us from kissing a third time, a fourth, as Peeta cups my face in his hands. 

 

I don’t know how long this goes on. We lose all sense of time, tucked in a corner of the dam, hidden partially by one of the towers used by the workers. I’m vaguely aware other tourists are around us, but if they offer any opinion on our activity, I don’t register it. Right now, it might as well be Peeta and me, wrapped around each other in front of the gaping cliffs rising on either side, and the sparkling river leading to some other unknown life below.

 

Nothing, in particular, makes us stop when we finally break apart. Just a sense of needing to move on, or maybe a growing awareness of our audience. Peeta is all smiles, though, as he takes me by the hand and leads me down the dam. He makes comments here and there about the beauty of the architecture, but I really don’t know how he can focus on anything like that at a time like this.

  
  
  


By the time we get back to the casino, it’s already dark, but no less hot. Peeta drops me off in the side parking lot, close to where my suite is. Before I have a chance to get out, he leans over and gives me another kiss. I accept it…. All right, I’ll be honest, I even welcome it. Somewhat. But it makes me nervous all the same. When he lets me go and I climb out of his car, I can’t help searching the surrounding area for anyone who may have witnessed us. He watches until I’m inside the fenced courtyard, then pulls away. Evidently, despite his early morning swims and time in the casino practicing his gambling, Peeta lives in an apartment off the property. 

 

I creep back as quietly as I can to my suite, trying my best not to make any noise, or do anything else to attract unwanted attention. As I reach my door, I stop. I realize I have a whole other “problem” to consider right now, one that’s nowhere near as dangerous, but every bit as tricky to navigate.

 

I have to figure out how to tell Prim where I’ve been all day.

 

Taking a moment to get a couple deep breaths, I decide to just get it over with and put my key in the lock. 

 

“Katniss!”

 

Right on cue, two blue eyes turn towards me, lit up with relief and curiosity. “I was beginning to get worried,” she said.

 

“Sorry,” I mutter, not looking at her. “I’m here.”

 

“Did you go out?” she asks. I can tell she’s trying to remain nonchalant, but underneath that cool facade, I know she’s just dying to know where I’ve been all day. Or, more importantly in her mind, who I’ve been with. 

 

She’ll be unbearable when she finds out she was right. 

 

I guess that’s the thing, though, isn’t it? She was right. She was right about all of it. About Peeta… about me. It’s a matter of pride in not wanting to own up to it, I’ll admit, but it’s so much more than that. I’m certain Snow has to know, somehow, in some way, what happened between Peeta and me today. Maybe it’s irrational to think he would know what happened at the Hoover Dam, miles away from the casino. But Cosa Nostra has eyes everywhere. There is no telling which of the seemingly innocent tourists who strolled past us while we were wrapped up in each other was actually one of his spies. It equally wouldn’t surprise me to learn he had sent someone out specifically to keep an eye on me. I’m a moneymaker for this hotel, one of his assets. Even the one “relationship” I’ve had since I got here was orchestrated entirely by him, and for his own benefit. So to sneak off behind his back and fall for this accountant, especially when he is already under suspicion for working against Snow -- it’s not just foolish, it’s about as dangerous as it gets. 

 

I pull up short as I catch myself. Fall for this accountant? Am I really falling for him? I kissed him, but I don’t know why. I hadn’t exactly examined the impulse when it occurred, I just let it move me. But the evidence is right there, isn’t it? I don’t exactly just walk around kissing men. But if I do have feelings for him, it’s pointless. I could never be with him, not fully. Nothing could come of it. And worse still, one of us might even wind up dead. 

 

“Prim,” I say, my voice sounding much more clear this time. “I’m in trouble.” I’m not sure why I said it, or what I’m about to explain to her. All I know is that I can’t keep it in any longer. And there’s no one else I can talk to. I swore I would protect Prim from the business for as long as I possibly could, and maybe I can still find a way to tell her what’s happening without actually telling her what’s really happening.

 

“What’s wrong? Katniss?” She leaps to her feet, going from concerned to outright scared. The sight is enough to reel me back a little bit; not go overboard with details that are sure to only overwhelm her. 

 

“You were right,” I say, giving a weak laugh. It’ll sound like the pathetic admission from a girl who denied anything was going on between her and a flirtatious stranger, and not so much like there’s anything worse going on.

 

“About what?” Now her brow knits together in confusion. 

 

I cross the room and pretend to examine a piece of paper on the end table. “He kissed me.” It makes me feel all those emotions I felt before, when I was actually in his arms, kissing him, to admit it out loud. It also makes me feel nervous. Like Prim is going to somehow think less of me for kissing a man.

 

“What?” Her face lights up; she’s nearly laughing with delight. “Peeta?” She asks. She’s practically bouncing with excitement. I try to answer, but my voice doesn’t seem to work, so I just nod.

 

“How did this happen?” She jumps back on the sofa and crawls to the side that’s next to me, resting her elbows on the chair rest so that she props up her head and looks at me, her eyes big and shining with expectation. She wants me to tell her the whole story. I relay the events of the day, starting with the way he actively came seeking my company, all the way up to how I told him what happened with Gale, and how it lead to the kiss (here, she actually sighs).

 

“I knew it!” she cries as soon as I’m done. “I knew you were crazy about him! You never entertain anyone like you do him. You don’t look at anyone the way you look at him!”

 

“What do you mean?” I ask, momentarily distracted from the real issue at hand. Which is what’s going to happen once Snow finds out about my dalliance with the new accountant. “How do I look at him?”

 

“Like you’re crazy about him?” she grins at me. “Which you are.”

 

“What does that look like?” I ask, annoyed. I honestly didn’t think I looked at him any differently than I did anyone else.

 

“I can’t just show you!” she says, wrinkling her nose. “It’s just the way you look at someone when you’re in love with them. Don’t you know what I’m talking about?”

 

“No…” I murmur, drifting off as I try to recall all my interactions with Peeta. I even go all the way back and revisit any interactions I had with Gale. Was there something different? Did I look at either of them any differently? Did either of them ever look at me differently?

 

“So,” Prim interrupts my thoughts, “how is this going to impact your show? Are you going to invite him to all your performances now? Will they even let you? Or do they control everything about your love life, like what happened with Finnick?”

 

“I don’t know.” I sigh and make my way around the end table and sink down on the sofa next to Prim, slumping against the backrest. I just stare up at the ceiling. “It’s never come up before. Beside the Finnick thing. But that was more for promotion than anything else.” Finnick Odair is a world-famous movie star who also owes his fame and success to his connections with Snow. It was Snow who got him his big break that launched his career. Shortly after The Mockingjay first opened, a romance was staged between the two of us, mostly just to get people to come see my show, and pay money into Snow’s growing bank account in the process. It had been entirely for promotion -- Finnick and I formed a friendship based off an understanding of what it was like to live such similar lives, but nothing more bloomed between us. Mainly because Finnick was already in love with someone else. He had been since before we ever even met. She’s a normal civilian named Annie Cresta, but she’s nowhere near glamorous nor famous enough for Finnick’s manager to ever let date publicly. So he has to keep it on the down low. Needless to say, there was never going to be anything more than friendship between Finnick and myself right from the very start.

 

Still, the friendship has proved worth having. Whenever Finnick comes around, we get a drink and commiserate over the frustrations of our lifestyles. Sometimes I get his advice on things since he’s been doing this a lot longer than I have. It occurs to me now that he might be a good resource for me now, if… whatever is happening between Peeta and me right now actually does go anywhere. Which, despite what happened today, I still don’t know if it will.

 

“It still might not go anywhere,” I say to Prim. 

 

She looks at me, surprised and alarmed. “Why not?” She asks. “You’ve finally found someone you’re interested in! It’s okay to move on, Katniss.”

 

I just shake my head. “It- It isn’t just about that,” I say, very carefully, because I know I’m beginning to go down dangerous territory with her, the very same path I promised I would never take her down if it could be helped. But maybe she will need to know about this information. If something happens.

 

“Then what is it about?” she asks, sounding skeptical, but also curious.

 

I debate with myself whether or not I should just come out with it, and tell her the truth about who really owns the hotel. But I chicken out at the last second, still not feeling ready to let her in on such a dangerous truth. “It’s just, business reasons,” I mumble evasively, knowing I don’t sound particularly convincing.

 

“Oh. So you don’t think they’d allow it then,” she says. “Can’t you just hide it? Like Finnick and Annie?”

 

“I don’t know if it would be that simple,” I say, wishing I could think of some subject to which I could convincingly change without completely arousing her suspicion. “Because… he works here.”

 

“Is there a rule here about that?” she asks, looking surprised. 

 

“There might be.” In truth, I actually doubt very much that there is. And it hadn’t been what I was meaning to imply at all, but it’s such a perfect out that I grab it willingly, using it to my advantage.

 

Then I let out a yawn. I realize just how exhausted I am; I’ve had a long day, and it’s caught up with me. “Well, I’m going to go to bed,” I tell my sister. “Don’t stay up too late.”

 

“I won’t,” she says. Then she smiles mischievously. “Don’t you stay up too late, either, thinking about Peeta,” she says in a playful voice.

 

I roll my eyes and don’t even bother justifying her comment with a response. But as disappear into my bedroom, I can’t help the smile that plays across my face.

  
  
  
  


I’m sitting in my dressing room the following night, half an hour before my show starts, when Effie Trinket, my stage manager, steps into the room. “Katniss, dear, you have a visitor.”

 

“I do?” I turn my head to look at her, to the annoyance of my style team, who have been hard at work trying to get my look just right for the stage. “Who is it?” I’m fairly certain I know who it is, and I’m just trying to decide whether to openly welcome Peeta, maybe introduce him to my whole team, or have him meet me more discreetly later when Effie startles me with her response. Because it’s not Peeta at all.

 

“Mr. Cray,” she tells me. “He stopped to see the show tonight, and wanted to wish you well before you went on stage.”

 

My heart must skip five beats at once. The room around me practically starts spinning. Cray is notorious as one of Snow’s enforcers. If he’s here to visit me, it can only mean one thing. And it isn’t to wish me well on my performance.

 

I’m not the only one who realizes this. My style team’s irritation with being interrupted disappears immediately, as they excuse themselves out of the room, knowing full well this is no place for them to be right now. The funny thing is, I want nothing more than to call them back, as if they could somehow protect me from this man responsible for the deaths of many, and suspected as the real cause behind many more. I know my style team couldn’t actually do anything to protect me from him, but even so, I wish they would stay. I know better than to actually request this, though, and do my best to put on a brave face as they file out of the room. Then Effie excuses herself and disappears, only to be replaced by an old, weathered man. 

 

“Good evening, Miss Everdeen,” he says to me in a voice that is a little too upbeat. “It’s wonderful to finally get to meet you.”

 

“Good evening,” I say to him, my voice far more stilted.

 

“I’ve heard so many things about you,” he continues.

 

“And I, you,” I say, then kick myself mentally because that is about as dangerous a comment as I could possibly make. I may as well just openly challenge him. I don’t dare betray the fear I’m actually feeling, though, and do the best I can to arrange my facial features into one of stone. I hope against hope I have a better poker face now than I did when gambling with Peeta the other night.

 

Cray raises an eyebrow; my transgression has been noted, filed away, but he won’t act on it. Not yet, at least. 

 

“Of course, you’ve been a particular favorite of Snow’s for so long,” he continues without missing a beat, though I can tell, maybe by a shift in his body language or something, that my comment got under his skin. “First as the wife as one of his most loyal employees,” he says, adding an extra emphasis on the word ‘employees.’ Then as one of the most lucrative aspects of his most successful business venture to date.” He motions around, to indicate my dressing room and the performance as a whole by proxy. “You attract visitors to the hotel just because they want to hear your lovely voice.”

 

“I think you’re playing me up too much,” I say, my cheeks burning slightly.

 

“Not in the slightest! You’re famous all up and down the Vegas Strip,” he says. “And even beyond, especially given your romantic history with people like Finnick Odair.”

 

I want to set the record straight about Finnick Odair’s and my past, but I stop myself, remembering who this man is. He likely already knows the truth. So why he’s bringing it up, I’m not sure. But I can be it has something to do with why he’s here.

 

Cray reveals himself immediately. “Of course, that’s part of why there are so many people confused now, as to why you’ve gotten so… friendly with the new accountant on staff.”

 

“Excuse me?” I ask before I have a chance to consider if it’s even a good idea. But I catch myself before I can make too much of a mess. Instead, I try to play it like a woman who has had such unsavory rumors spread about her. “What rumors are these? Who’s spreading them?”

 

“It’s the talk of the staff,” Cray says. I notice he doesn’t mention any names in particular, though. “You’ve been seen eating meals together, walking the halls together. Gambling in the early morning hours. I even heard about your day trip out to Hoover Dam yesterday,” he says brightly.

 

A sharp jolt of energy shoots through me. It’s my worst suspicions confirmed. Oh, sure, I knew about all the witnesses to the meals we’ve eaten together -- it’s not exactly like we’d been hiding those. But the gambling lesson, the trip to Hoover Dam? I suppose any number of workers might have reported seeing us that first morning, but my first suspect that comes immediately to mind is the one who played with us. What was his name? Haymitch? I’ll have to make note to keep an eye out for him in the future.

 

The instance that has me most concerned, though, is Hoover Dam. How on earth did he know about that? Granted, anyone could have seen me leave the hotel with Peeta yesterday, or even seen me return last night. But none of those people would have had any way of knowing where we had gone together… unless they had followed us. Or maybe even had witnessed us there, just like I was wondering about yesterday. Only then I was pretty sure I was just being paranoid. Maybe I still am, though. I know I didn’t tell anyone, aside from Prim, where I had gone, but what about Peeta? Had he casually mentioned it to someone, thinking it was no big deal? Or could it even be possible that Prim let it slip to the wrong person? She does work at the front desk…

 

“I wasn’t aware anyone knew about the trip yesterday,” I say. “I’ve barely spoken to anyone since I’ve been back. And I haven’t mentioned it.”

 

“You know how it is around here,” he smiles that suspiciously sweet smile at me. “Rumors spread like wildfire. But I think it’s great that you’re getting to know the new accountant.”

 

“You do?” I ask. That was probably the very last thing I expected to hear from him.

 

“Oh, sure. As a matter of fact, so does Snow. He’s heard about your little friendship, too, believe it or not.”

 

“I believe it,” I say. Snow makes it his business to know everything that’s going on, at least if it’s something that could directly impact his business. The question is, what’s he going to do about it? What course of action is he going to take now that he knows? Will he choose to correct it? The fact that Cray is here doesn’t bode well for the future of this entanglement. Suddenly, I’m terrified Peeta will disappear and turn up dead later, his body just “mysteriously” abandoned in the desert. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened.

 

“He’s a real romantic, Snow is,” Cray continues. “And so am I. If you think something is blooming between you and the accountant, then, by all means, you should follow your heart.”

 

There it is. Cray is definitely here for something. There’s no way he would pay me a visit just to wish me luck in a potential relationship. He doesn’t deal in that kind of thing. “What does Snow want me to do?” I ask. “I know you’re not actually here to congratulate me on making a new friend.”

 

“Smart girl,” Cray says. “See, Snow was thinking you could use your position as an advantage. Get close to the kid. Learn things from him. Find out what he knows. Get a peek at what he’s really doing if you know what I mean.” 

 

“You want me to spy on him.” Of course. I should have known. In fact, I should have seen this coming the moment Peeta Mellark bid his first hello to me. I feel like such a fool for not realizing it would come down to this. 

 

Cray’s smile turns sad. “I know you’ve heard the rumors about him, Miss Everdeen. Everyone around here has.”

 

Well, there’s no point in lying. He’s right; it’s practically all anyone has been talking about for weeks. Or at least, all anyone who knows what’s really going on around here talks about. “I suppose I was just hoping they weren’t true,” I say, cautiously, because I know I am on thin ice here, and the wrong comment could prove dangerous.

 

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? Find out what he’s doing. If it’s nothing, then there’s nothing for either of you to worry about.”

 

“And if there is?” I ask darkly, knowing full well the answer to that question.

 

“If there is… well, I’d recommend you tell Snow what you know right away. Because I’ve been keeping an eye on that sister of yours -- Primrose, is it? She’s real pretty. It’d be a shame if anything were to… happen to her.”

 

I spin around to face him, my eyes wide, my mouth hanging open. “You wouldn’t.”

 

“I’m just saying, bad things have a way of happening around here to those who aren’t careful.”

 

“She doesn’t know anything!” I’m on my feet now, ready, I think, to actually fight him over this. Never mind that it would be a losing battle. I can’t let anything happen to my sister. This is the very thing I have fought so hard to defend these last few years.

 

“Then I would recommend you get a good look at whatever that new accountant is doing. If he’s up to any funny business… you better let the right people know,” he says with a glint in his eye. There is no question as to who the “right people” are.

 

I feel frozen in place, at a total impasse. I have no choice; I can see no other way out of this situation. “All right,” I say weakly, nodding absently as I sink back down on my chair, feeling weak.

 

“Good girl,” Cray says. “That’s what I thought you’d say. Snow knew you’d see things our way.”

 

“Yes.” Snow is all knowing, it seems. He really does watch everything that goes on in his empire like a hawk. Or like a tyrant, more like it.

 

“Well, now that that’s settled, I really must be going. Break a leg,” he says and flashes me the kind of grin that suggests he may actually mean that. He moves for the door. Just as he’s about to open it, there’s another knock. So Cray takes the liberty of opening it. And of course, on the other side stands none other than Peeta himself.

 

“What fortunate timing,” Cray says with a sinister smile as he exits from the room.

 

Yes. For him, maybe. Myself, I’m mentally screaming at Peeta for showing up here at all. It only makes everything a thousand times worse.

 

“What was that all about?” Peeta asks, glancing over his shoulder at Cray as he retreats. Peeta’s eyes are narrowed; is it my imagination, or does he seems a little suspicious of Cray? No, it has to be the weight of our conversation influencing me. 

 

“He’s… um, head of security,” I lie, though in a way it’s true. “He just came by to say hello.”

 

“Oh,” Peeta says simply, and seems to let the issue go. Now he turns his full focus to me and gives me a huge grin. “I wanted to say hello, too,” he says.

 

“Oh, hello,” I say weakly, giving a nervous laugh that I hope Peeta doesn’t pick up on. Or maybe, if he does, he misinterprets it as the laugh of someone nervous around a new beau, and not because she’s just been blackmailed into spying on someone.

 

I can see in his eyes that he does pick up on it. But he doesn’t force the issue. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to come by to see you until now,” he tells me. “Work was crazy today. I wanted to bring you flowers and everything, too.”

 

“It’s all right,” I say, feeling worse by the minute. Thank goodness he didn’t have a chance to stop to pick up flowers for me. That would have made this an even bigger mess. Still, a small part of me can’t help feeling touched that he even wanted to make the effort at all. Which is an even bigger problem, when I think about it, than the flowers would have been. I can’t let Peeta take root in my heart. Somehow, I have to figure out a way to make him think I’m getting close to him, without actually putting my feelings on the line.

 

Putting on my best smile, I walk over to him and kiss him on the cheek. “Why don’t you go take your seat?” I tell him. “We can talk after the show.” 

 

Fortunately, Peeta agrees with this suggestion easily. He gives me a kiss before he leaves, though. It takes everything I have not to pull away, more out of self-defense than anything. But I force myself to remain steady and accept his kiss. I watch him as he leaves, walking down the hallway that will take him out to the public area, where he can find a seat. How on earth am I supposed to pull this off?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mob Monday! Our plot thickens.
> 
> Fun fact: 'Las Vegas' translates to 'The Meadows,' and many names through out our city reflect that. In fact, one of the original casinos in the valley was named The Meadow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mob Monday's!
> 
> Thanks as always to dispatchesfromdistrict7, feeding_geese/bigbigbigday006, gentlemama, and akai-echo for their contributions.

Peeta insists on taking me out after the show is over. I’m nervous to accept, in light of the events that took place before my performance. I’m still reeling from the whole thing and I’m afraid Peeta will notice something is wrong, or that I’m purposely trying to stay guarded around him. I haven’t had enough time to process exactly how I’m supposed to play this, to strike that balance between getting close enough to him to find things out, but not close enough that I could hurt either one of us. In the end, I realize that not going might be the worst option of all. I can practically hear Cray in my ear, and Snow by extension, telling me to go or else think of what might happen to my sister.

All it takes is a thought about Prim’s safety to make up my mind.

We don’t go to the usual cafeteria where we eat our meals. We also don’t go to the bar out in the casino. There’s a nicer place where guests can get fancier meals call The Capitol. This is where Peeta takes me tonight, and fortunately it’s a lot darker, which helps me somewhat. The dim light at least makes me feel like I can hide how I’m really feeling.

“You were magnificent tonight,” Peeta tells me as the waiter pours us each a glass of wine. “Of course, you’re always magnificent. Even off stage.”

I give a thin-lipped smile. I wish he wouldn’t compliment me like that. Even under normal circumstances, it would make me uncomfortable. Now it’s just downright unbearable, considering how I’m meant to actively destroy him. I shift in my seat, wishing I could just go home to my suite and hide away in my bedroom. I wonder what Prim is doing right now. Is she safe? I hope she’s secured away in our place right now, even if I can’t be.

“Thank you,” I manage to get out, concentrating on the glass of red wine. I go ahead and take a healthy sip of it, hoping the alcohol will make this a little easier. At the very least, it should take the edge off of all the anxiety I’m feeling right now. It works; I feel the effects almost immediately. I decide to take a stab at finding something out that I can use. At the very least, I can tell Cray and Snow that I tried. “How was work today?” I ask, forcing myself to look up at him.

He shrugs. “Busy. A lot of auditing. Boring stuff,” he says, looking like he would rather talk about anything else than this. But that word, auditing, catches my attention.

“What are you auditing?” I ask him, trying to look casually interested.

“Oh, just business accounts, mostly. Making sure guests’ bills all lineup and that kind of thing. Like I said, incredibly boring.”

I’m quiet as I let his words swim around in my head. I know there has to be a way to turn this around, to get some info out of him somehow. But the truth is, I don’t know the first thing about accounting. I have no idea how to even begin to steer the conversation closer to the kind of information I know Snow would be looking for.

Oh well, I decide as I reach for another sip of the wine. I’ll just have to wait it out. Surely an opportunity will present itself at some point, right? I decide to relax a little, and just go with things.

 

 

When I get home, Prim has already gone to sleep for the night. That’s a relief. The last thing I need right now is to have her pressing me for updates on Peeta. It’s bad enough she already knows. Now I wish I had kept my mouth shut the other night. Does it really matter, though? She would have picked up on it anyway. She’s so keen to see me with someone that this is like a dream come true for her.

Maybe that’s the problem, I realize as I close my bedroom door quietly behind me, being careful to not wake her up. She’s too focused on this. Prim should be worrying about her own hopes and dreams for the future. She has a brighter one than I do, anyway. I’m trapped here, in this casino, in this desert, for as long as Snow wants me here. And if that ends, it’ll only be because he wants me somewhere else. Or worse. I can’t even consider that option. If I allow myself to be killed by his goons, then there’s nobody to protect Prim. But as long as I’m alive, she’s free to live the life she wants to live. She can go wherever she wants, with whomever she wants.

My thoughts drift to Peeta. Is he really a spy? It’s possible. Even if he’s not, he’s better off not getting mixed up with me. He’d just get trapped in this life, too, and end up hating me later rather than sooner. It’s not worth it. I really should put a stop to it right now. But then I remember Snow’s threat, and I know I can’t. Sinking down onto my bed, I stare up at the ceiling, as if the vast darkness somehow holds the answers to this dilemma. But it’s no use. I know I’m going to have to do what Snow wants if I’m going to protect Prim. I’ll just have to figure out how to get close to Peeta without actually getting too close to him.

The trouble is I don’t know how, exactly, to go about doing that. Which is why I end up avoiding him the next few weeks. I begin taking my meals in my room, or going to the restaurants when it’s off hours and I’m less likely to run into him. He doesn’t notice at first. When I pass him in the hallways, I give him an uneasy smile, attempting to make it seem like everything is okay, but I can tell he’s puzzled. When he stops by my dressing room to visit me, I get him out of there as quickly as I can, which only confuses him. I can see the disappointment in his eyes; it makes me falter for a moment, wanting to give in. Then I remind myself what the stakes are, and close myself off from him again.

Eventually, he stops coming around. He’s clearly picked up on the fact that I’m giving him the cold shoulder. Good. It’s a relief. Maybe I can tell Cray that things ended between us naturally. Maybe he’ll actually believe that. Then a day comes when there’s no way I can get around talking to him.

“Did you get a chance to pick up our paychecks?” I ask Prim that afternoon.

“Oh,” she says quietly. “I only got mine. I’m sorry.” She doesn’t look at me.

I had been hoping I could avoid seeing Peeta down at the business office altogether by getting Prim to pick up my check when she went down to get hers. In fact, I asked her to do so this very morning, and she said she would. But while Prim has kept quiet about Peeta’s absence in my life, I know she’s noticed it. I can practically feel her wanting to ask me about it. Wanting to “fix” it. And judging by the way she’s not looking at me now, my guess is she did it on purpose. To force me to go down and see him myself.

I try not to show my frustration. “That’s… alright,” I tell her. “I can get it.”

“Are you sure?” She turns and looks me in the eye now. Prim is so pure, she probably feels guilty for her stunt, even if she felt she did it for the right reason.

I’m tempted to take advantage of this, to get her to go pick up my paycheck after all. But something stops me. Somehow, I know this is something I need to do. I can’t keep avoiding Peeta forever. “Yes,” I nod. “I wanted to take a walk, anyhow.”

Prim nods, trying not to look pleased with herself. I try to act like I don’t notice. I slip on a pair of shoes and head out into the summer heat.

Things are busy when I reach the business office. A line of employees still streams from its main entrance, stemming from a small, circular table. A familiar figure mans it. I do my best to avoid looking at Peeta, trying to prepare myself for the moment when I know I’ll come face to face with him. No one gets in line behind me, which is both a relief and a disappointment. At least with someone else waiting to pick up their check, I have an excuse for getting out of here as quickly as possible. But I’m not that lucky.

When the person in front of me finally reaches the table, I know that Peeta knows I’m here. But he seems to make a point of not looking at me at all. It only serves to make me even more anxious. How will he react once he finally comes face to face with me? Will he be angry? Will he raise his voice? But there’s little time left to wonder because the person leaves, and I’m left standing in front of Peeta at last.

All at once, the energy in the room turns cold. “Hello,” he says, his voice sounding stiff and formal.

“H- hello,” I answer, shifting uncomfortably. I wish, more than ever, that there was somebody else standing behind me. Or beside me. Or anywhere else, just as long as I wasn’t here by myself. Maybe I should have made Prim come along with me.

A silence falls over us, and I try to think of something to say. But Peeta drops his eyes almost immediately and looks down at the box containing the checks. “Are you here for your paycheck?” He asks, maintaining his professional demeanor.

“What?” The question throws me off for a second. “Oh. Oh… yes.”

He nods and pushes a piece of paper and a pen towards me. “Sign here, please.”

I do as I’m told. Peeta waits until I’m finished, before presenting me with the envelope that contains my paycheck. “Thank you,” I murmur quietly. He just nods and looks over my shoulder.

“At least it was quick,” I think as I turn to walk away. I only get a few feet, however, before I come to a stop. I stare down as I clutch the envelope in both hands, fighting with myself. All I have to do is walk away. But Peeta’s behavior… it’s wracking me with guilt. Just seeing him again is making me feel guilty. I might as well admit there’s some longing there, too.

“Peeta.” His name quietly slips out of my mouth before I even realize it’s happening. I don’t even have to turn around to feel him tensing, trying to prepare for whatever I’m about to say. Well, that makes two of us. But since I’ve already started, I know I don’t have any choice except to continue.

I force myself to turn and face him. Peeta looks at me curiously, an eyebrow quirked. But he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t slip out of the cold, distant behavior he’s putting between us.

Suddenly there’s so much I want to tell him. About Cray and the threat, he made against Prim, about the fact that he’s forcing me to spy on Peeta. All of this nearly comes spilling out of my mouth, but I stop myself just in time. Even if I knew for sure that I could trust Peeta with these things, this is no place to be telling him about any of it. Ears are everywhere.

Instead, I only manage to get out a couple of words instead. “I’m sorry.” Measly and pathetic, and even I would scoff if I heard me saying them.

Peeta actually does scoff. “What for?” He asks. “For disappearing on me without explanation?”

Feeling pathetic, I nod. “Yes.”

I can tell he wants to say more, but he catches himself before he does. “Enjoy your paycheck, Miss Everdeen,” he says coldly.

“Peeta- “

He refuses to look at me. With a sigh and a heavy heart, and not knowing what else to do, I turn and walk away.

Later, after my performance is over, I find myself wandering the floor of the casino. I’m not really ready to return to my suite just yet. I’m also not sure where I want to go. The pool doesn’t feel right. I’m in no mood to swim right now.

Before I know it, I realize I’m standing in front of the bar where Peeta and I had our first drink together. Memories of the night wash over me. They make me sadder than I realized they would. I think about it for a moment before deciding to take a seat.

“What’ll it be?” Someone asks. I glance up to find a man with darker skin smiling down at me. Almost leering. Like he might kiss me, just to make me squirm.

At first, I’m tempted to leave, but then I push the instinct away. I hesitate, trying to decide quickly. Something tells me that if I don’t act on top of things, it’ll only make him take me even less seriously.

“Give her what I’m having,” a voice says from beside me.

I look over and see the dealer from my first night out with Peeta. He’s slouched over a glass of something, I look him over, sizing him up; he does the same. “What are you having?” I ask suspiciously.

He gives an amused snort. “Whiskey,” he says, gruffly.

I think it over for a brief second, before turning back and nodding at the bartender.

“Rough night, huh, sweetheart?” The man asks.

I cringe inwardly at the name but don’t bother correcting him. “I suppose you could say that.”

“Where’s your friend?” He asks. “Or is that why you’re having a rough night?”

The bartender sets a glass of whiskey in front of me. Immediately I grasp it and take a sip. My eyes widen, it’s all I can do not to spit it out all over the place. Nearly choking, I force myself to swallow. It burns on the way down. Next to me, the man bursts out laughing.

“Stronger than you expect, eh?”

I scowl at him. “What are you doing here, anyway?” I ask. “Shouldn’t you be at a dealer table or something?”

“I don’t work all the time, sweetheart,” he shoots back. “Or should you be up on stage right now, too?”

I open my mouth to say something but think better of it. He has a fair point. So I turn back and slowly take another sip. Strong or not, I’m determined to drink this thing. The man - Haymitch, I think it was - goes back to his own glass, and for a while, we just sit there quietly, though he makes idle chitchat with the bartender. They appear to be friends. Or at least I hear Haymitch call the man by his first name. Chaff, I think it is. I suppose them both being on the floor, they would know each other.

Chaff walks away, called to the other end of the bar by another customer. No longer occupied, Haymitch decides to turn his attention back to me. I take another sip, bracing myself for whatever he has to say this time.

“You must be having a rough night,” he says, letting out a low whistle as he observes my glass, now a quarter empty.

I study the bottom of my glass intently. My thoughts aren’t as clear as they normally would be, so I know I need to be careful. Most of the staff at The Mockingjay have an idea of who they’re really working for, but they’re not supposed to know the details. Those are reserved for the special ones. Like me, unfortunately. But I realize I do want to talk about it.

“Just… I wish I could- get out of the whole messy business,” I mumble, realizing as I do so that this makes absolutely no sense to Haymitch.

“Get yourself into some trouble, huh, sweetheart?”

“Don’t call me that!” I attempt to glare at him, but just swinging around makes me dizzy.

“Fine. Mockingjay,” he says. It’s not much better, but at least it’s not ‘sweetheart.’ It’s a little less patronizing, I think.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admit quietly.

“Get yourself out of it,” Haymitch says, taking another swig of his whiskey.

I roll my eyes. “Thank you. Any more advice?”

“If you’re looking to Haymitch for advice, you should probably look elsewhere,” another voice, one I know I recognize but can’t quite place right now, says from somewhere. I look up, expecting it to be Chaff. I’m wrong. Instead, I’m looking straight into Peeta’s blue eyes. And they’re sparkling. I can’t quite connect it to the sullen man I was trying to talk to earlier.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, sitting down on the free stool on my other side.

I don’t answer. I just stare, trying to figure out what’s happening.

Chaff comes over, and Peeta orders a drink. Then he looks at mine and leans over to take a whiff. “Graduated from Tom Collins, have we?” He asks, barely masking his amusement.

“He recommended it,” I mumble, shrugging.

“I should have known.” Peeta straightens up and gives Haymitch a look. “What are we drinking to tonight?” He asks us both.

“Seems your friend has gotten herself into some trouble,” Haymitch says. I tense, somehow afraid Peeta will figure everything out from Haymitch’s words alone. Which can’t happen. Everything will fall apart if he knows what’s happening.

“I’ll bet,” he says.

Chaff returns, delivering Peeta’s drink. He dutifully takes a sip, while Haymitch becomes lost in some conversation about something with Chaff. With them distracted, Peeta turns to me and takes a deep breath.

“Look, Katniss. I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier. It wasn’t fair for me to treat you that way.”

“What?” I slur, squinting at him as if that will somehow make his words magically make more sense to me.

“I… I think maybe we were moving too fast. And that must have scared you. Am I right?”

Peeta’s words still aren’t making any sense. But if he’s saying what I think he’s saying… then maybe he’s just provided me an easy way out of this thing. I don’t answer, which Peeta takes as confirmation that he’s right.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know it must be hard when you’ve lost your husband… like you did. But I… “ Even in this dim lights, I can see his cheeks grow pink. “I really like you. And I was hoping you might consider giving me another chance.”

“I can’t,” I mutter. Peeta’s eyes widen. “I mean- “ I rush to assure him, somehow, though I’m not sure what I’m trying to assure him of. I only know I feel terrible seeing him hurt like this. “I can’t figure out what to do,” I say, helplessly. The strange thing is, I think it’s exactly what I meant in the first place.

Peeta relaxes and smiles. “Well, you don’t have to figure it out right now. I just wanted you to know that, you know, when you’re ready… and if you want to… “

I nod. “Thank you, Peeta.” And I actually do feel better. Much better. That’s what scares me.

Another hour passes, with only light-hearted joking passing between the three of us. I don’t take another sip of my whiskey. I think I’ve had enough. When I’m thinking clearly again, I motion Chaff over. “I think it’s time for me to turn in for the night,” I tell my company.

“I’ll walk you back.” Peeta rises and pays Chaff. He insists on paying for mine, too. I really don’t need the help financially, but he’s so adamant about it, I go ahead and let him. Then we start the trek back to my suite. Not a word passes between us until we get there. Then it’s only for Peeta to wish me goodnight.

I watch him turn to leave. “Peeta?” I call after him, not sure what I’m planning to do.

He turns, giving me an expectant look. Before I even know what I’m doing, I take a step forward and kiss him. Immediately, I feel Peeta’s strong, sturdy arms wrap around me, pulling me closer as I melt into his warmth.

We pull apart. “Goodnight,” I mumble, breaking, however reluctantly, from his embrace. Peeta gives a dreamy smile.

“Goodnight,” he says softly.

I quickly open my door, hoping to escape into the safe confines of my suite as the full weight of what just happened sinks in. But as I close the door, I catch Peeta’s eye, and can’t help returning his smile.

 

 

After that, every payday forward becomes easy to handle. Slowly, I begin to let Peeta back into my life. Under the guise of my needing to take any kind of relationship slowly, I’m able to keep things going at a pace that allows me to figure out how I’m going to play this whole thing. Things stay light between us. Peeta joins me for lunches often, which is probably good, since word should get back to Snow that I’m spending time with him. Occasionally, I even let Peeta take me on dates. One time he even convinces me to see a film with him, something called The Farmer Takes a Wife.

“Did you like it?” He asks as he drives me back.

“Sure,” I say.

He glances over at me. “You don’t sound like you did.”

“It was fine,” I insist. “Just… I don’t get to the theater very often.”

He looks over at me again and studies me. Then he looks back at the road without another word.

Cray waits for me in my dressing room at least once a week. Pressing me for information. Like a stalker studying his prey. The thing is, there's normally very little for me to report back. Peeta is surprisingly quiet when it comes to his work.

“He has to be telling you something!” Cray yells at me one night.

“We don’t usually talk about work when we’re together!” I yell right back, then regret doing so as soon as I do. Not because it’s a lie. It’s the opposite. We really don’t talk about anything like that when we’re together. Neither of us wants to.

“Then start talking about it!” Cray snarls.

I don’t answer. I just stand my ground, glaring at him.

“Katniss,” he says, calmly. Too calmly. “Do I have to remind you what will happen to that sister of yours if you’re unable to do your job?”

Finally, I look away. “No.”

“Then find out what the boy is up too!” He storms out, slamming the door behind him.

With him gone, I let myself go, collapsing into a chair. I bury my head in my hands. I’m the wrong person for all this spy business. I’m not cut out for it. I’m not an actress. I’m only a stage performer because it’s only singing. But all this pretending I’m something I’m not… to get information out of somebody. I’m no good at it.

Right on cue, there’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” I call, not really caring at this point who might be on the other side. Besides, I have a pretty good suspicion who it is.

“Am I interrupting?” Peeta peeks through the crack of the door as he hesitantly pushes it open.

“No,” I say, sitting up straight. Immediately I feel on edge -- he has impeccable timing, it seems. Always showing up at the worst possible time. But he can’t know what our conversation was about.

“That Cray fellow,” Peeta says. “He was visiting again?”

“Just a routine visit,” I say.

Peeta looks back over his shoulder, like he’s watching, even though Cray has long since disappeared into the murky underbelly of the casino. “Is he bothering you?”

This catches me off guard. “No, of course not,” I say slowly. “That’s his job, isn’t it? To catch when someone’s bothering me?”

Peeta shrugs. “Just want to be sure.”

“Well, I’m fine. Thank you. Why don’t you go take your seat?”

“I will in a minute. But I wanted to know what you’re doing later tonight?”

“I didn’t have any plans,” I say, though I suspect I’m about to.

Peeta holds up a pamphlet. “Do you want to go to a bomb party with me?”

I’d heard of bomb parties before. They’re fairly common around here these days. They’ve been setting the bombs off in the desert for some time now, testing them out for goodness knows what reason. They set the things off over 100 miles away, but you can see the clouds all the way from Vegas, that’s how big they are. You can feel them here, too.

Because this is Las Vegas, of course, they’ve turned it into a huge party whenever one goes off. I avoid them. The last thing I need or want, after my performances, is to wade into a large crowd of tourists. I didn’t even go out for them when I was supposedly dating Finnick Odair. They might invite questions that I can’t answer. And I’m no good at lying. Which is one reason I can’t understand why I’m in the situation that I’m in.

“I don’t want to go to one of those,” I say. It comes out much colder than I anticipated. Except now that it’s out, I realize how much I actually do detest the idea of these parties.

There’s a brief pause, probably while Peeta absorbs my response. “Is there something wrong?” He asks evenly after a minute.

I suck my breath in, trying to make myself respond as diplomatically as possible. Of course, it fails. “You’re just like Gale,” I snap. “Always fascinated with war and weapons and things. You don’t ever consider what they cost us!” Even I’m surprised by the depth of my response. But now that it’s out, I realize how much it truly is what bothers me about these things.

Silence fills the room. I steal a sideways glance, and see Peeta gaping at me, like he’s not sure what hit him. “Katniss,” he starts slowly. I brace myself, already feeling defensive for whatever repute he’s about to give. “I just thought it might be neat to watch. You don’t have to go if you don’t want.” He’s calm -- succeeding in the diplomacy I failed at earlier -- but I can hear a cold edge to his tone.

“But you’re going anyway?” I ask, folding my arms.

“I didn’t say that,” he sighs. “If you don’t want me to go, I won’t go.”

“You can go if you want to,” I say.

“I realize that. But if you don’t want me to go… “

“Just go,” I tell him.

“What are you so upset about?” He asks. And now I pause, because I actually don’t know what to tell him. Sure, I’m upset about how the wars remind me of Gale. But… and then it dawns on me. It’s because I don’t see much of a difference between the wars that soldiers fight between countries and the wars that occur between different families in Cosa Nostra. Lives are lost either way.

Peeta crosses my room. I lock onto his blue eyes when, to my surprise, he takes my hands in his. “Katniss,” he starts gently. “I was in the war, too. It’s how I lost my leg,” he says with a sad smile. “Believe me, the last thing I want is to see that happen again. I just thought it might be a fun way to get out. That’s all, I promise.”

  
Now I don’t know what to say. For a moment, we just stare into each other’s eyes. He holds his smile, as if he’s trying to encourage me, or comfort me or something. And I have to confess, it works.

“I don’t want to go,” I say again, though this time my voice is softer.

“Then we won’t go,” he promises. “Is there something else you’d rather do?”

 

  
“I should have known,” Peeta says with a smile as I lead him, hand in hand, to the swimming pool.

“I thought you liked swimming,” I counter.

“I do,” he admits. “But you like it more.”

“It’s relaxing,” I say. “Besides, the pool is nice and quiet this time of night.”

“You don’t like crowds very much, do you?” He asks.

“They make me feel uneasy,” I say as I wade into the pool. It’s true. There are the obvious reasons why--I’m afraid of being recognized. But even aside from that, there is something about being in a large crowd that I don’t like. They make me feel… trapped. And it’s not a feeling I like.

“They don’t bother me too much,” Peeta says, following me in. The influx of water causes his swim trunks to billow around his thighs. In the light reflecting off the casino in the water, I can even see the hair on his legs. “Though I suppose I can’t complain too much, that you prefer being alone with me.” He smiles.

I feel my cheeks burn despite myself as he moves towards me and takes me in his arms. This is the first I’ve ever felt so much of his skin on my own. I nearly shudder when his chest presses against mine as he gives me a kiss. Then he releases me as he turns and swims away. I watch him for a while as he works his body, maneuvering in such a way as to make up for the leg he’s missing.

What did I do to deserve him coming into my life? I don’t. The way he was willing to change his plans for me earlier… it was perfect. How am I supposed to report on him to Snow? To put his life in danger? Peeta doesn’t deserve to have me rat him out, that much is clear to me now. Having him come into my life, though, and then I have to betray him? That sounds about right. That’s something I deserve. I could live a hundred lifetimes, and not deserve that man.

Off to the side, something catches my eye. A shoe, likely left behind on accident from a hotel guest earlier today. It’s so small, it must be a child’s. I stare at it absently for a while, imagining this child, what it looked like. Was it a girl, or a boy? Did they have blonde curls, like Peeta? Or was their hair darker, like my own?

I decided a long time ago that I was never going to have children. It’s too dangerous when you’re as far into Cosa Nostra as I am. Look what happened to my father. To Gale, and to his father. But for the first time, I allow myself to do what I’ve never allowed myself to wonder about before. What would it be like, being a mother? To live a life where I know my child could be safe?

My eyes return to Peeta’s form. Anyone could see what an amazing father he would be. That’s why he needs to get as far away from me as he can get. Peeta’s child deserves to be safe.

  
“What’s on your mind, Mockingjay?” Peeta startles me out of my daydreams, coming up beside me. I nearly jump out of the water. He laughs at seeing me startle.

“Nothing,” I say quickly. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Like what?” He asks a little too innocently. “Like this?” Suddenly I’m in his arms, and he’s twirling us around in the water. I can’t help laughing as I wrap my arms around his neck to steady myself.

Slowly, he comes to a stop, and we cling to each other, still laughing, as we try to regain our balance. It feels so good to be in Peeta’s arms. Safe.

“Was it about that man who visited you earlier?” Peeta asks after we’ve calmed some.

“Huh?” I’m caught off guard by his question.

“That one you say is the head of security. Cray?”

Oh. I fall silent, afraid to even answer. Then again, if I don’t answer, that will make Peeta just as suspicious. So now I have to figure out a way to answer without giving anything away.

“What makes you ask that?” Evading is always a good technique.

“You’re always uneasy after he visits you. Tense, even.” Peeta pulls back and looks me in the eye. “Katniss, is he hurting you?”

“No,” I say it immediately. Maybe a little too quickly, because Peeta narrows his eyes suspiciously. “If he is, I want to help you,” he says frankly. “Katniss, is he really the head of security? Or is he something else?”

It’s unnerving, how easily Peeta guessed what’s going on. Of course, he hasn’t figured it out exactly. Not to my knowledge, anyway. But there’s no hiding that he’s catching on. The question now is what to do about it.

“He… is,” I start slowly. It’s true, too. Cray is technically the head of security around the hotel. But he’s more than that, too. Head of security is just his front. “But he also… oversees some other business for our owner, too.”

Peeta’s brow wrinkles. “What kind of business? I haven’t seen anything around the office involving him.”

That’s right, I catch myself. Peeta is an accountant. He sees all the financial workings of the hotel. Or at least, all the legal ones.

“Oh, it’s… separate from the hotel,” I say weakly. “There are some other connections. In New York.” I add that last part hoping that it might convince Peeta it’s true, but once the words are out of my mouth, I realize how obvious it actually sounds.

“I see,” he says, visibly relaxing. “I’ve heard Plutarch is quite a businessman.”

I’m confused for a moment, before I remember that Plutarch Heavensbee is the frontman for the business. Of course Peeta would think that’s who I’m talking about. He might not even know about Snow and his involvement.

“Yes,” I say. “He partners with Claudius Templesmith in New York.” Maybe it’s risky, giving that information away, but Claudius Templesmith is known for owning a radio station in New York on top of his connection to Snow.

“Templesmith?” Peeta looks at me.

“Y- yes, I think so. Why?” Now I’m feeling a little nervous. Have I given away too much information?

Peeta shrugs. “No reason. Just, I used to listen to his show a lot when I was a kid. We got it all the way in Nebraska.”

Oh, is that all. He had me nervous for a minute there. But if it’s just about of childhood nostalgia, that’s understandable. “So did we,” I admit, smiling.

“But Appalachia is much closer to New York than Nebraska is,” he points out.

“True,” I agree. “Maybe we’re not the hillbillies after all.”

“Well, now, I didn’t say that,” Peeta says, feigning offense as he shakes his head.

The rest of the night passes by without any incident. Though we don’t go to the party, we do end up witnessing the bomb go off, sort of. We stay out long enough to see its glow rise up over the roof of The Mockingjay. It’s a Friday, so Peeta doesn’t have to worry about being at work the next morning. I don’t have to worry about being awake again until tomorrow evening. Not that I’d sleep in that late.

Peeta walks me back to my suite when we finally climb out of the pool. Just as I’m about to unlock the door, he pulls me to him for another kiss. My arms come up and wrap around his neck as I breathe him in, not wanting to let go. I’m tempted to invite him inside, a fact that catches me by surprise. I still don’t do it, though. Prim should be inside, asleep. So instead I say a final goodnight, give a final kiss, and slip into my suite alone.

 

 

Monday morning, I head to the restaurant for breakfast, like usual. Almost immediately, I sense that something is wrong. Something is off. Everyone seems to be speaking in whispers to one another, at least among the hotel staff. They glance at me as I walk by, but barely seem to register that I’m there at all before returning to their conversations.

I take my normal seat, across the table from Darius, who’s been waiting for me. “What’s going on?” I ask, keeping my voice low, because I can tell that whatever’s going on, I shouldn’t be talking about it too loudly.

“You haven’t heard?” Darius studies me, checking to see if I’m serious. When he can tell I am, his face grows dark. He drops his voice to a near whisper. “Several of Snow’s men were arrested in New York.”

I lean back. “Is that all? That’s happened before.”

“Not like this,” he says. “It was several of his key men, if you know what I mean.”

Now it’s my turn to study him as I piece together what I think he’s trying to tell me. “You mean…“

Darius nods.

“Who?” I hiss, my eyes darting around the room to make sure no one is listening.

“Brutus, for one.” My eyes widen. Brutus is one of Snow’s capos. His most trusted one, in fact.

“What about Flickerman?”

Darius shakes his head. “I don’t think they know he’s connected. Yet.”

Caesar Flickerman owns the hotel and casino that’s on the other side of Las Vegas Boulevard from The Mockingjay. Caesar’s Palace, he calls it. To the average citizen, it might appear like we’re rivals, and in some ways we are. But Caesar has connections to Snow that go way back. They’re in bed together, even if they aren’t obvious business partners.

“Who else?” I press Darius. He lists name after name, each more important to Snow’s family than the last. Something twists in my stomach. It takes me a few minutes to figure out why, before it dawns on me.

“Darius… how do you think they caught them all?”

“I’m not sure,” he says. “They seemed to figure it out through their connection to Templesmith. Someone must have tipped them off,” he shrugs.

I feel sick to my stomach. It can’t… can it?

“You okay?” Darius asks, looking at me with concern.

I nod, slowly, and I’m sure it’s not at all convincing. But I can’t tell Darius about my suspicions. “I’m fine,” I say lamely. “I… I just remembered something. Excuse me.”

“Sure.” He watches me as I stand, and quickly leave the restaurant. Down the hallway, through a corridor, I know exactly where I’m going. People dart out of my way, I’m walking with such determination. Though what, exactly, I’m going to do once I get there, I don’t know. But my feet keep carrying me forward.

When I get to the entrance of the business office, I finally come to a stop. Am I sure I want to go forward with this, now that I’m here? It could blow my cover. But I’m so angry, I don’t care. I burst through the doors. The startled workers look up at me in surprise.

“Um… Is Peeta here?” I mumble lamely.

“Katniss?” I look over, and find him standing in the door of his office. I give the other workers an uneasy smile and make my way over to him, suddenly feeling silly. Now that we’re standing here, face to face, I’m not sure what my plan is. Am I going to confront him? That doesn’t seem like a good idea. If he had nothing to do with it after all, then he’s going to know the truth about what’s going on here.

On the other hand, what if I’m right? It can’t be a coincidence that a few days after I let Templesmith’s name slip from my lips there’s a bust on our soldiers that work with him under the table. Can it?”

“What are you doing here?” Peeta asks once I’ve made my way over to him. He can see by the look on my face that something is upsetting me.

“I… wanted to talk to you about something. Privately.” I glance around the room empathetically.

He nods, and ushers me into his office before closing the door behind us. Now that it’s just the two of us, I feel even more ridiculous. I sink slowly into a spare chair that's leaning against a wall and watch as he takes a seat in his own office chair.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, fixing his blue eyes on me. If he has any suspicions about why I’m here, he’s hiding it well. He appears to be genuinely concerned.

“I… um, well…” I search for my answer, not feeling comfortable to come right out with it. In fact, now I’m not so sure I was right to blame him for this after all. “I… missed you?” I offer weakly.

Now he breaks into a big grin. “You did?”

I try my best to give a convincing nod.

“I missed you, too,” he says. “But I have to work.”

“I realize that,” I say.

“You’re welcome to sit in here with me if you want, though,” he offers.

“All right,” I agree, nodding again. Because I don’t know what else I can do. I’m here. It seems odd to leave already. And yet, I feel like I should try to stick to my guns. Something sent me to this office. I just have to trust whatever instinct it was.

As it turns out, watching Peeta work is rather boring. Sure, he gets a distant look on his face as he concentrates, that suggests there’s another world locked away inside him entirely. But not much else happens. It’s close to lunch when I’m thinking I should just give up and let him be. What was I thinking, anyway? Of course Peeta didn’t betray me. I’m feeling silly to ever think so, when I accidentally move my arm and bump a pile of papers off his desk.

“I’m sorry!” I say and immediately move to pick them up. Peeta is quickly on his knees as well, but I get there first. We both begin to tidy up, when something in the pile catches my eye. Plucking it from the pile, I hold it up to examine it. There, written in what I know is Peeta’s handwriting, are the very same names of the men who were arrested this morning.

  
For a long moment, all I can do is stare at it as it sinks in. Finally, I make myself look up at Peeta. He’s sitting on his knees, watching me. Waiting for my reaction. Because he knows exactly what’s going on.

“Is this… “ My voice is quiet, and I can’t even finish the sentence.

“Katniss- “ He starts, and I can detect an almost pleading tone to his voice.

“You told them.” I hiss. “I trusted you.”

“Katniss.” He says my name again, only this time it’s much more firm. He reaches for the paper, but I snatch it away before he can get it. My head is swirling as I try to figure out my next move. I’m stuck. I don’t want to admit anything to him, especially now that I know for sure that he’s informing. But at the same time, I feel so… so betrayed by him, that I can’t just let it go. Besides, if I let him off the hook, it’s dangerous for all of us.

Tears start welling up in my eyes. “I trusted you,” I say again, feeling more helpless than ever.

“You can still trust me,” he tries, but it’s enough to set me off.

“I can’t! You’ve been spying on me this whole time, haven’t you? Well, guess what, Peeta? You’re not the only one. I’ve been spying on you, too!”

Peeta’s mouth falls open as his eyes widen. In them, I can see his own shock begin to register. Then anger, then… am I right? Or is there visible pain in his eyes? Then they cloud over as a hard look crosses his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things just got real for our pair. How will Peeta take this revelation?
> 
> This week's fun facts: Yes! Parties while watching atomic bomb blasts were an actual thing in the 50's. Vegas used it as a tourism draw.
> 
> The Mockingjay Hotel and Casino is based off The Flamingo, the first hotel opened on the Strip in 1946 by Bugsy Siegal, later killed in a hit by Meyer Lansky. In this fic, Seneca Crane takes the Siegal role, while Snow is based off of Lansky. Cray is inspired by Luca Brasi from The Godfather, who was played by Lenny Montana, an actual bodyguard for the Colombo crime family. (Yes, I know way too much about mob history.)


	5. Chapter 5

Regret washes over me the minute the words spill out my mouth. But why? What do I have to regret? The truth is out now. But maybe that’s the problem. We shouldn’t be giving the game away. Isn’t that the first rule of gambling?

 

Peeta knows now. It’s almost a relief, in a way. I’m not good at keeping secrets. Especially not secrets this big. Really, I don’t know how I got away with it for this long.

 

“I see.” Peeta holds my gaze before looking away. “So then, I guess… all of this has been a game to you.”

 

Anger wells up inside me. “That’s not fair,” I shoot back.

 

“Isn’t it?” He asks. “You just admitted you were faking this entire thing!”

 

“Oh, and I suppose you haven’t been?” I counter, waving the sheet of paper in his face for emphasis. 

 

“That’s different,” he says.

 

“How?” I ask incredulously. 

 

“Because I have actual feelings for you!” He shouts. Silence descends on us as we stare each other down. Peeta’s words have left me shaken. He has feelings? For me? But then I think about how smoothly he lied to me, how he had no problem slipping information I fed to him in confidence.

 

“I don’t believe you,” I mutter.

 

Peeta sighs, exasperated. “Why would you? Nothing about this has been real for you.”

 

He’s not being fair. Even if any of this had been real for me, it wouldn’t have mattered. “If this has been so real for you, what were you spying on me for, then?”

 

He climbs to his feet. It takes him several moments to respond, as he turns away from me and seemingly studies the dead air behind him. When he does finally speak, he seems to have calmed some. “I can see why it would appear that way to you,” he says. “But that was never my intention for spending time with you.”

 

“No. Just a fortunate fringe benefit, I suppose.” 

 

He turns back to face me. “And you’re one to talk?”

 

I take a deep breath before deciding to tell him. “I was put up to it.”

 

Something flickers across Peeta’s face. I’ve piqued his interest. “Who?” he asks.

 

I hesitate. This is dangerous, discussing this information here like this, even in Peeta’s office. But I’ve already started down this road, haven’t I? If the FBI truly is involved, then maybe the best choice is for me to cooperate. Still, I have to be careful about proceeding. “I can’t tell you here,” I whisper. 

 

Peeta nods, understanding.

 

“Please. I’ll cooperate,” I continue in a whisper. “Just promise Prim will be safe.”

 

Now he wrinkles his brow. “Katniss, what do you think is going to happen to her?”

 

I glance around. No one appears to be watching us from outside. Still, I can’t risk it. “It’s not safe,” I mouth.

 

Peeta turns towards his desk and grabs a piece of scrap paper and a pen. He writes something down on it, then turns back to me. “Meet me at this address tonight,” he says quietly. “We can talk then.” Then he turns and resumes his work without another word to me because no matter how professional he’s being, I can tell he’s still upset.

  
  
  
  
  
  


I wait from close until ten pm before I feel safe enough to leave The Mockingjay. The address Peeta gives me leads to an apartment complex northwest of the Strip. It’s closer to downtown, really. I knock on the door of an apartment on the second floor. Peeta answers. Glancing beyond me for spies, he steps aside to let me in. I glance over my shoulder myself before I do.

 

“Please. Take a seat,” he says formally as he locks the door behind me. I step into the small living area and sit down on a yellow sofa. The blinds in the room have all been shut. Peeta sits on a recliner directly across from me.

 

“Do you think you were followed?” he asks.

 

“I don’t know. I… don’t think so,” I say.

 

Seemingly satisfied, he focuses the whole of his attention on me. “Start at the beginning,” he urges me.

 

So I do. I tell him everything. From my childhood, when my own father was a foot soldier for Snow back in New York, how when he died, I married the son of an associate, both of whom were also foot soldiers. I explain how, when Gale was killed on a job one day, Snow promised he would take good care of Prim and me, only it turned out that meant sending us off to Nevada to take advantage of my voice. How I lived with it for years, not quite hating it, but never being fully happy about it, either. Finally, I tell him how, after noticing the time I had been spending with him, Snow instructed his enforcer, Cray, to blackmail me into spying on Peeta for him. By the time I’m done, I’m practically in tears from reliving the memories.

 

“It’s going to be alright,” Peeta says in a soothing tone. He stands, and for a second I freeze, afraid of what he’s going to do. But he only retrieves a facial tissue from a nearby table, then hands it to me as he sits down next to me on the sofa. I move to take the tissue. Somehow, I wind up in Peeta’s arms.

 

“I’m sorry,” I hear myself saying over and over again. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” he says. “I came into this willingly, didn’t I?”

 

It’s true. But it doesn’t make me feel any better. 

 

“Was that really when you started spying on me?” He asks. “After the trip to Hoover Dam?”

 

I’m so startled by the questions, I answer. “Yes.” After all that I’ve just told him, is that really the question preying on his mind?

 

He looks thoughtful. “Katniss,” he says, at last, drawing my name out as though he’s still thinking about whatever he’s going to tell me. “Let’s run away.”

 

“What?” I blink, not sure I heard him correctly. I couldn’t have heard him correctly. How could he suggest such a thing at this point? I pull away from him so I can look him in his eyes. He seems serious.

 

Peeta reaches over and takes my hands in his. I guess he isn’t upset with me anymore. “I know, it seems crazy. And I can’t leave until my part in the sting is done. But I can get you and Prim both out of here before that.”

 

“Where?” I ask. My head is spinning, trying to process the suddenness of his proposal. 

 

“I have friends, back in Nebraska. Delly has been my best friend since we were children. She and her husband Thom would be happy to take you in for a while, I’m sure of it. I’ll ring them tomorrow.”

 

Nebraska? The Great Plains? There isn’t much of a presence out there. But we couldn’t stay forever. “And then what?”

“I don’t know. We can go wherever we want after that,” he says, growing more excited. “Europe. Asia. The Caribbean. I saw a film about Puerto Rico that made it seem nice,” he says.

 

“But Prim,” I say. “She has to finish her studies.” There’s no way I’d allow her to drop out of the university now. It’s the best way to ensure that she’ll have a future away from this nightmare. 

 

“She can. It might be best for her to transfer. But don’t you think it’s better to get her as far away from this world as she can?”

 

I grow quiet. Peeta is right, of course. But there’s something else to consider. Something more sinister. “Peeta,” I say, “Snow is powerful. He’ll have his men looking for us. All of us. Including you.”

 

To my surprise, Peeta just laughs. “I have powerful friends, too, Katniss. Or did you not realize it was the FBI I’m working for?”

 

He’s right. For the first time, I realize I’m not alone in this. I might actually have a chance to get Prim out of this world for good. To get out myself for good. I wonder what would happen to The Mockingjay if I were to leave. Would they keep the name? What would they tell the world about my sudden disappearance? Oh, they’d spin it somehow, for sure. Say I had decided to retire or something. But behind the scenes, they’d be on the hunt for me. And I’d have the FBI helping to protect me. 

 

“You can take some time to think about it if you want,” Peeta says. “But remember, we don’t have a whole lot of time to make this decision.”

 

“No,” I say, breathing in. It’s crazy. Maybe even suicide. But some instinct is telling me this is the right thing to do. “Let’s do it.”

 

Peeta’s whole face lights up in surprise. “Really? You want to go?”

 

“Yes,” I nod. I lean towards him and immediately he opens his arms, wrapping me in his embrace. Holding me to him. I feel safe for the first time in ages. 

 

Glancing up at him, our eyes lock. We close the distance between us as we kiss. I feel the warmth, the curiosity stirring inside me that I’d felt before in the pool, at the dam. Only here, in the safety of his apartment, in the security of our plans, it begins to grow, spreading throughout my body to the tips of my being. 

 

Peeta’s lips move down south, working their way to my neck. My eyes close, and I breathe in as my head falls back, my mouth falls open. I grasp his shirt in my fists, then release it as they find their way up to his hair. My fingers run through it, tousling his curls gently. 

 

“Katniss,” he breathes in a shaky voice. I just grin. I know what’s about to happen. I remember from the times I did this with Gale. Only with him, it never felt quite like… this.

  
  


I pull back. Peeta looks startled, questioning me with his eyes. In response, I reach for the top button of my blouse and unbutton it. Then I undo another one. Then another, and another, while Peeta’s eyes widen as he understands what’s happening. He can’t tear his eyes off my fingers as they work their way down until finally the last button is unfastened and my blouse falls open. Our eyes rise at the same time and meet. I’m smiling; Peeta looks incredulous. I shrug the blouse off my shoulders until I’m free of it entirely.

 

“Peeta,” I ask, “have you done this before?”

 

Now he looks embarrassed. He cheeks flush pink. “Would it scare you away if I said no?”

 

Wow. So Peeta is a virgin. Somehow this both surprises me, and yet doesn’t surprise me in the least. Peeta is full of surprises, but he’s also a gentleman. “Then I’m just going to have to teach you,” I say as I lean in to kiss him.

 

His hands slide up my arms and he covers my hands with his. “I think I’d like you to teach me,” he murmurs between kisses. I reach between us and begin unbuttoning his shirt as well. Feeling emboldened, he begins work on my trousers. After he’s unclasped them, I stand and kick them off.

 

Peeta is on his feet as well. “Wait,” he says. “If we’re going to do this, then I want to do this properly.” I’m about to ask him what he means when he scoops me up in his arms and carries me into his bedroom. There, he deposits me on the bed, while he removes his own pants. Then he joins me on the bed. 

 

“I don’t suppose it’s too bold to ask you to take it off,” he says, glancing at my chest. I smile, and without saying a word, reach behind me to unhook my brassiere. I’m deliberately slow about removing it, locking eyes with Peeta as inch by inch I allow the straps to fall from my shoulders. Finally, I decide to put him out of his misery and let the whole thing fall from my chest.

 

Peeta actually lets out a low whistle, which I can’t help laughing at. “Sorry,” he says, looking sheepish. “It’s just… Katniss, you’re so beautiful.”

 

Now it’s my turn to blush. Not knowing what to say, I grab his hands in mine and guide them up until they’re grasping a breast in each palm.

 

Peeta takes to it right away, massaging my nipples with his thumbs. When I let out a throaty groan, he grins, looking proud of himself. “Does that feel good?”

 

I nod. “Keep doing it.”

 

He obeys, and I don’t know how much time passes as I bask in how good it feels. Peeta begins to feel brave, apparently, because eventually, his hands begin to wander, exploring the rest of my body. And I do the same to his. 

His hand slips down underneath the waistband of my underwear. “These panties are driving me crazy,” he gasps as I feel a hand slide down further, caressing my skin underneath that’s protected by the cloth. A shiver runs through me at the sensation. “You have everything off except them.” His dark eyes drink in the sight of my bare chest as he says this, lingering in particular on my hard, brown nipples. “It’s so… it’s so… “ He can’t even finish the sentence as he pulls me back towards him, me balancing on my knees on either side of his lap as his warm mouth encloses one breast. He lets out a little groan as soon as his tongue makes contact with my skin, making me arch against him as I let out a moan myself.

 

“Naughty,” he finally murmurs, finishing his sentence. Still sucking on one breast, both his hands slide under my panties and cautiously explore the parts of my body he cannot see. Suddenly it’s too much for him, it seems, because with an almost fury he pulls them down so that they pool around the crook of my knees resting on the bed.

 

With that last barrier removed, I’m now completely exposed, which is a little intimidating but almost empowering considering the way Peeta is looking at me. Like he’s never seen anything so amazing in his life. Like he’s found the Garden of Eden itself, and now he doubts if he’s even worthy. His brow creases, his eyes widen as they take me in, rising for just a brief moment to make contact with mine as I grin at him, before falling back down.  I wonder if he’s ever seen a naked woman before. Given the circumstances, he’s at least probably never seen one in person.

 

He seems paralyzed with the joy of it all, so I decide to take control. I lean in, making sure to press my breasts firmly against his chest and give him a kiss. At the feeling of my lips on his, my chest against his chest, he comes back to earth, wrapping his arms around me and deepening the kiss. I push gently against him, and he takes the hint, using his arms to leverage himself as he gently lowers back down on the bed, I climb on top, straddling him on either side with my arms and legs as I kiss him. As soon as one kiss ends, another begins, then another and another as my body grows hot with desire. Unable to contain it any longer, I reach between us and take a hold of his cock, hard and warm in my hands. Peeta’s eyes widen a second time at the feeling of my hand on him, but he makes no other movement except to watch me intently. I pull him up, using the tip to rub my clitoris, softly at first. Then my pace quickens and I press him harder against me as I begin shaking, just barely fighting off an orgasm. “Oh my god,” I hear him whisper below me, and I peek one eye open to see he’s watching me with a look of awe.

 

Before I reach my peak, I stop. Now Peeta just looks confused, wondering why. His question is answered when I reposition him so that his tip sits right at my entrance, teasing me. Even I let out a moan at the gentle feeling of him. 

 

“Peeta,” I whisper in a shaky voice because I want him inside of me so bad now that I’m actually aching for him. 

 

He’s on the same page. “Katniss,” he says, his voice husky, “I can’t stand this anymore. I need to be in you.”

 

I don’t even respond. I decide to let him do the honors, and climb off of him. He figures out what I’m doing without missing a beat, and we switch places, so now he’s the one on top of me. He reaches between us and replaces the tip of his cock at my entrance, just as I had done a moment before. He looks me in the eyes and gulps. “Are you ready for this?”

 

I nod, thinking how funny it is he’s asked this question. I’m the one who’s done this before. He's the one I don't know is ready for this. But he must be because slowly he begins to push inside. 

 

I know he’s moving this slow because he’s nervous. But the slow burn is so delicious, so overwhelmingly euphoric that I can’t help it. My eyes close and another shiver, this one violent, courses through me as I let out a loud moan.

 

“Peeta,” I mutter as he fills me up, stopping when he’s finally all the way in, “you feel so good.” I open my eyes and look back up at him, and though his eyes are hooded, heavy with the feeling of being inside of me, he also looks proud of himself.

 

“You feel incredible,” he sputters back. We grin at each other; then Peeta begins to move, drawing his hips back so that he doesn’t completely leave me before pressing himself back into me. I let out another groan that makes his smile widen. He pulls back again, further this time, feeling more confident. Then there’s a feeling of emptiness, and Peeta’s pride melts into embarrassment. I glance down and see that he pulled a little too far out, and has fallen out of me.

 

“I guess I got a little carried away,” he says sheepishly. I just laugh and give him a kiss.

 

“It happens sometimes,” I say. Gale used to do it all the time, but I’m not about to bring his name up when Peeta and I are in the middle of something like this. 

 

My words seem to comfort him. He strokes some strands of hair away from my eyes and kisses my forehead. Then he kisses my lips as he enters me again. Kissing him only heightens the sensation of him in me, and I instinctively raise my hips to meet his rhythm, which in turn pushes him deeper into me. We both moan this time, then quickly repeat the action again and again and again, quickening the pace as we both desperately want more and more of each other. 

 

I bring my hand between us and begin rubbing my clitoris again. Peeta looks curious down on it, watching as my fingers move in fervent circles. “Does that help?” he asks.

 

“Yes,” I smile back up at him. “It makes it feel even more amazing.”

 

“I wish I could do it,” he says furtively.

 

“You can,” I tell him. “But later. Just- ugh- just keep doing what you’re doing right now.” My voice has become shaky as I feel myself begin to peak again. “Oh! Peeta,” I murmur. “I’m so- so happy you’re between my legs right now.” I can barely believe I’ve said such a thing, that’s how good this feels. 

 

“I’m happy to be between your legs,” he says, then we both laugh at how cheesy it sounds. But cheesy or not, it’s the truth. Then, quickly, Peeta’s smile falters.

 

“Katniss,” he says, “I- What do I do if i- ?”

 

It takes me a second to work out what he’s asking, but the way his hips are twitching as they quicken their pace clues me in. “Oh. OH!” I say as the realization sinks in. “Not in me!” I almost yell in a panic. Then I force myself to calm because Peeta will think he’s done something wrong when just the opposite is true. “Pull out,” I tell him in a milder voice.

 

He nods. He thrusts in and out a few more times before he jerks himself out, his penis glistening with myself on him. He takes hold of it and begins stroking himself, finishing himself off manually. As he begins to shake, he looks around for a place to relieve himself.

 

“Here,” I say, pushing my chest forward. He looks confused but doesn’t have time to think twice as he comes all over my breasts. Then he collapses beside me, panting as he watches my fingers still at work between my legs. A minute later, with a shriek and a lurch, I finish, too. 

 

Then there are only the sounds of our heavy breathing as we both come back down to earth. Then Peeta gathers me in his arms. “That was worth waiting for,” he murmurs into my ear.

 

I turn so that my lips are grazing his, and give him a kiss. Peeta just stares at me with those blue eyes, grinning ear to ear about something.

 

"What?" I ask with a laugh.

 

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head, but he's still smiling. "It's just... I was thinking, I don't think I've ever seen you this happy before."

 

My eyebrows crinkle. "What do you mean?"

 

"I mean, ever since I've met you, you've been so practical and serious about everything. Even your stage persona is serious. That's the thing about you, Katniss," he says. "You're so caught up in making sure everyone else is happy, you never take time to think about your own happiness."

 

This catches me off guard. "What do you mean?"

 

"I mean, you worry about making sure your sister is happy. You worry about keeping Snow and his cronies happy. But what about you?"

 

I'm quiet as I mull this over in my mind. He's right--I do put everyone's happiness over my own. I suppose I've always felt it didn't matter if I were happy or not, just as long as I kept those I care about safe. And yes, sometimes that involves keeping those I hate happy as well. And even now, I guess I was putting Peeta's happiness above my own. Or was I? I think back to when I initiated this earlier. I wasn't doing it to make Peeta happy, though I knew it would result in that. I did it... I did it because I wanted to. And that's when I figure it out.

 

I move my head so that it's resting on his chest, right above his heart. Immediately, he moves an arm and wraps it protectively around me, drawing me tight to him. "I'm bad at this kind of thing... " I start. "But... But you make me happy."

 

I don't need to look him to know he's smiling. With his free arm, he cups my chin in his hand and gently directs my head to look at him. He gives me a long, gentle kiss. "I'm glad,” he says with a smile as he pulls away. Then, maybe because he can sense this topic is awkward for me, he switches subjects.

 

"Are you hungry?" He asks. "I can make us something."

 

“No,” I say, suddenly feeling sleepy. “I’m just tired.” I put my hand on his arm. “Stay with me.”

 

He stills, not making any further attempts to leave the bed. He settles back down under the sheets, holding me in his arms. “Always.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


A loud noise jolts me from my sleep. In the dark, I’m disoriented, forgetting where I am. Then I feel his arms around me, his breathing next to me, and I remember. 

 

Peeta groans as he comes to. “Who’s calling at this hour?” He whines.

 

I say nothing, having no answer. But something about it makes me nervous.

 

He kicks the sheets off and sits up. “Stay here,” he tells me. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is.”

 

I hear him reach around in the dark for his leg, then make his way into the next room. A lamp flicks on, and in its faint glow, I can just see him as he sits at a desk as he picks up the receiver. “Hello?” He asks in a groggy voice.

 

I tuck the blankets in around myself as I watch.

 

“Who is this?” He asks, suddenly alert. He sits up straight, which makes me do the same in the bed. 

 

“What makes you think she’s here?” Peeta asks. A cold shiver runs up my spine.

 

There’s a brief silence. Then he looks over at me with a grave look. “It’s for you.”

 

For a moment, all I can do is stare at him. Then, as if I’m in a dream, I climb out of bed. It’s cold in the brisk, air-conditioned air, and I’m still naked. But the temperature isn’t what’s giving me goosebumps. 

 

Finally, I make my way to the table and take the phone from Peeta’s hand. Hold it up to my ear. “Hello?” I say

 

“Katniss,” a familiar voice answers on the other end.

 

“Darius?” I’m actually caught off guard.

 

“Snow knows you’ve betrayed him for the accountant. They’re going after your sister.”

 

“What?” Panic wells up inside me, but the line goes dead. “Darius! Hello? Hello, Darius?” I call out frantically, even though I know it’s no use. 

 

I feel a hand take the receiver and immediately jump. Peeta hangs up the phone and looks at me seriously. “What did he say?”

 

“He knows, Peeta,” I stammer, not knowing what to do. “He knows about us! He’s going to hurt Prim!”

 

“Who is? Snow?”

 

“He’s going to kill her!” I say. “I have to get to her!”

 

“Not right now, you don’t,” he says. I bristle, about to snap at him, but he heads me off at the pass. Placing his hands on my shoulders, maybe to steady me, he looks me in the eye. “Katniss. They’re tapping all the calls on my line. The FBI will be on it immediately,” he tells me.

 

I blink, trying to make sense of his words. “I can’t let them hurt her, Peeta. I have to protect her!”

 

“I know,” he assures me. “But we have to be smart about how we do it. Why don’t we get dressed?”

 

Dazed, I remember that we’re both having this conversation without a stitch of clothing. I follow Peeta back into the bedroom and search around for the pieces of my outfit as he dresses and returns to the living room. Finally, I remember that I left half my clothes in the other room. As I go to retrieve them, Peeta is on the phone again. I hear him telling someone about the call.

 

It’s enough to reassure me. Back in his room, I quickly finish dressing, then return to the living room to be with Peeta. As I’m emerging, though, there’s a knock at his front door. I immediately feel the panic welling up in me again, but Peeta doesn’t seem concerned as he moves to open it, only taking a second to check who’s on the other side first. 

 

Snow. Cray. Even Darius. Those are who I’m expecting to see on the other side of that door. But I’m not prepared for who I see instead. It’s Haymitch, the dealer from the casino.

 

He takes one look at me before rolling his eyes at Peeta. “Aww, shit, kid. You just had to make this complicated, didn’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The travel video Peeta mentions in this chapter is real. It can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KWhy6oMixx8
> 
> Only two chapters left! How on earth is this all going to play out?


	6. Chapter 6

In the midst of everything happening, I can barely wrap my mind around what I’m seeing. Haymitch? The dealer? What’s he doing here? “What?” I start asking my question but trail off before I finish, only able to look to Peeta for guidance.

 

As Haymitch shuts the door behind him, Peeta turns to me. “Haymitch is one of us,” he says. “He’s been my contact at the hotel, feeding me any information he picks up.”

 

Well, that certainly explains why they seem to spend so much time together. 

 

Haymitch just glares at me before turning his attention back to Peeta. “So what, kid? You think she’s just going to come over to our side just like that? Like she isn’t going to run right back to her boss and tell him everything she’s learned here?”

 

“Excuse me?” I say, feeling angry. 

 

Peeta looks at me, then frowns at Haymitch. “They have her sister. They’re using her against her.”

 

Haymitch returns Peeta’s frown. “And I suppose you want to stage a rescue, don’t you?”

 

“This could be a good chance, Haymitch,” Peeta counters. “We can’t just leave her sister in harm’s way.”

 

Haymitch sighs but doesn’t argue any further. “So what do you suggest we do, then?” He grunts. “Go running in like heroes? Snow’s gonna have plenty of his men around to protect him.”

 

“I know,” Peeta says. We fall silent, though I feel about ready to explode at any minute, I’m so anxious to do something. Anything. 

 

Suddenly Peeta looks over at me. His expression has changed like he’s finally had an idea. “Maybe you do go back to them,” he says.

 

“What?” Surely he must know I’m not actually going to betray him, no matter what Haymitch thinks.

 

“And tell them what, exactly?” Haymitch asks. 

 

“We’ll make something up. Have her feed them false information. Maybe she can even lead them into some kind of trap where our men will be waiting,” Peeta says.

 

Now I understand. Peeta wants me to lie for him. To be the bait that lures the snake out into the open. “No. Peeta, please. I’m no good at this stuff.” It was hard enough when Snow was making me spy on Peeta. I don’t know how I’m supposed to pull off being a double agent now.

 

“It’s risky,” Haymitch says. “Snow will be expecting us to play some kind of angle.”

 

“Snow will be expecting us to make a move no matter what. This is the safest way. Don’t you see? He might suspect Katniss has an ulterior motive, but just having her there, feeding information to him, should pacify him long enough to de-escalate the situation until we can get them both out.” Peeta turns to me. “Katniss, it’s just for a little bit. And it’s the best way we can save Prim. Do you think you can do it?”

 

I take a deep breath. His argument makes sense. “I think I’d better try.”

  
  
  
  
  


An hour later, I sit by myself in my car in the dark parking lot of The Mockingjay. It’s empty, which is fine by me. I need these few minutes alone to work up my courage.

 

Peeta and Haymitch cooked up the story I would be feeding to Snow, with some input from me. Of the three of us, I know best what he’s likely to believe. While we did this, calls were made to other agents. Reinforcements. We’ll need all of them we can get. Then we were ready. Or as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. Peeta gave me a final kiss and a promise that they would be at the ready to act if my safety is compromised, and then they sent me on my way.

 

Now I’m here. Trying to work up the courage to see the Don himself. I’m not sure I can pull this off. But I have to. I can’t let them hurt Prim. It’s this thought that finally gets me out of my car, that carries me across the parking lot and into the fire.

 

I know exactly where to look. Snow has one particular room he reserves for his visits to The Mockingjay. Naturally, it’s the most luxurious one in the place. I head straight for the place, after walking by the front desk to see if Prim is there. She isn’t.

 

The hallway his room is on is filled with his soldiers. “For protection,” he would say. It’s probably a good idea. The number of people who want him dead is probably in the double digits. One of them, a young man who must be around my age who I remember as Marvel, stops me. 

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks in Sicilian.

 

“He’s expecting me,” I answer back in kind, motioning down the hallway towards Snow’s door.

 

Marvel looks at one of the other soldiers for guidance. This one I don’t recognize. But he nods assent, and they both step aside to allow me past.

 

I move slowly towards the door and stop when I’m directly in front. I take a deep breath and try to steady myself. You can do this, I think to myself. Peeta and Haymitch are listening to everything that’s happening. They’ll be able to call reinforcements if something goes wrong. And they drilled the plan into me pretty well.

 

It’s now or never. I knock on the door. A minute later it swings open, flooding the hallway with bright light that nearly blinds me. 

 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Cray leers at me. “I’m surprised you have the guts to show up here tonight.”

 

“I need to speak with Snow,” I say. “I have information.”

 

“It’s too late for that. You remember what I told you would happen if you wouldn’t cooperate.”

 

“Cray, please, don’t frighten this young woman away. Let her come in and speak her piece.” A cold chill runs up my spine just from hearing his voice. And is it just me? Or has the entire room actually become colder? It’s suddenly become harder for me to breathe, either way. 

 

Cray looks annoyed but steps aside to let me in. Well, there’s no point in putting it off any longer, is there? I step into the room to get this over with.

 

There, across the room, he sits behind a desk. More soldiers stand in each corner of the room. Plutarch Heavensbee stands beside him. But that’s no surprise. Not only is Plutarch the front for the hotel, he’s also Snow’s consigliere. On Snow’s other side is his underboss, Antonius. 

 

“Come in, Miss Everdeen. I must admit, I wasn’t expecting you to show up here this evening.” Snow stares with those dark eyes fixated on me. Outwardly, he seems pleasant enough. But anyone who knows him well enough knows he’s calculating. That is Coriolanus Snow’s number one rule: never let anyone know what you’re thinking.

 

Well, now it’s my turn to practice that rule. I steel myself, knowing my next words might be a matter of life or death, literally. “Please forgive me. I was trying to complete your mission.”

 

Snow raises an eyebrow. “And what mission was that, Miss Everdeen?”

 

I know he knows exactly what I’m talking about. He’s trying to coerce me into saying it out loud. So there’s no question that I know his expectations of me. “To spy on Peeta Mellark, sir.”

 

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence as Snow regards me. Finally, when he knows I can barely stand it much longer, he speaks. “And did you succeed?”

 

I nod. “I believe I have information that you’ll find useful.”

 

Again, he lets me squirm under his gaze for a long moment before he leans forward, folding his hands as he rests them on the desk. “I hope for your sake that’s true, Miss Everdeen. I’ve heard you spent the night at Mr. Mellark’s apartment.” 

 

Fear jolts through me. How? How on earth would he know that? I was so careful! But apparently not careful enough. One thing’s for sure, though: if I’m going to pull this off, I have to seem as confident as possible. I put on the most indifferent face I can muster, and shrug. “I had to convince him I was going to be someone he can trust. How else was I going to get him to tell me what he knows?” Somewhere, I can just feel Peeta burning as he listens to these words. Well, it was his idea. He should know I have to say something to convince Snow.

 

“I see. And did it work?” Snow watches me closely.

 

“It did. I found out where they’re trying to nail you,” I say.

 

“And how do they plan to do that?” Snow remains unemotional, but I can tell, maybe by the ever so slight change of the gleam in his eye, that this has his attention.

 

“Not so fast,” I say, suddenly feeling bold. “First I need to know my sister is safe.”

 

“Who do you think you are, making demands like that?” Antonius moves towards me, but Snow stops him with the wave of a hand. 

 

“Very well. Your sister is indeed alive, Miss Everdeen. But she is being watched closely. I suggest you choose your next words wisely. This information you have for me had better be good.”

 

Prim’s alive. It’s all I can do not to jump for joy right then and there, to bolt from the room to find her and save her. But I know that’s not going to keep her alive. So I play Snow’s game. “It’s your taxes. They’re looking at your taxes. Noticing you’ve been failing to pay your income taxes. That’s how they plan to get you.”

 

Again, Snow stares at me. Minutes go by without a word. Then, finally, he leans back in his chair. “You’ve done well, Miss Everdeen. This is most helpful information, indeed.”

 

The relief is so great, I nearly crumple into a heap right here and now. But I keep my composure and nod. “Thank you, sir. I’m glad I could be of service.”

 

Snow turns to one of the soldiers standing guard in the room. “Please escort Miss Everdeen back to her suite for her safety,” he tells him. Then he looks back at me. “Your sister will be waiting for you there.”

 

I’m nearly giddy as I turn to follow the soldier out of the room. It worked! I can’t believe the plan actually worked! Maybe all the years I’ve worked as a performer have paid off, and I can finally pull off an act. I wonder what Peeta and Haymitch are saying back in the van. No doubt, they’re as relieved as I am. Now I just need to collect Prim and find our way back to them, and we’re home free. Who knew starting a new life would be this easy?

 

The guard drops me off at the door, waiting only long enough to make sure I am able to unlock it before he returns to his post. I wait until he’s out of hearing distance before I step inside. “Prim?” I call out.

 

Silence.

 

“Prim?” I try again. Still no response. I walk around, checking the rooms, but there’s no sign of her. Maybe they just haven’t returned her from wherever they were keeping her yet.

 

Somehow I know, deep inside my bones, that that isn’t the case. Somehow, I know something is very wrong.

 

When the phone rings, I nearly jump out of my skin. I rush over and answer immediately, hoping it’s Prim, or maybe even Peeta with some insight. “Hello?”

 

It’s not Prim or Peeta. The voice on the other end sends a cold chill all the way up my spine. “Miss Everdeen, I would have thought you of all people would know it’s better not to lie to me.”

 

“What?” My voice sounds so small and far away. So helpless.

 

“Just for that, I have a special gift just for you. Say hello to your friend, Darius.”

 

“Katniss!” I hear Darius’s voice yell out before it’s muffled into silence. Panic wells up inside of me.

 

“No! Let him go!” I scream into the phone. But it’s too late. I hear the gunshot ring out from across the hotel. Then there’s an eerie silence before Snow speaks again. “Oh, and Miss Everdeen? I’ve had both of your other two distractions dealt with as well.” Then the phone goes dead.

 

I stand there, clutching the receiver so hard that my hand grows white. I’m sure if I could see myself in a mirror, my face must be white as well. What he’s done is so evil, so barbaric… I’m having a hard time processing it. And what did he mean by the other two distractions? He must… and my heart sinks. He must have meant Prim and Peeta. Or Peeta and Haymitch. My eyes close as I drop the receiver, letting it fall to the floor as I bury my face in my hands. Gone. I’ve killed them all, and all I wanted to do is save them.

 

What am I going to do? Anger and despair replace the panic. I can’t go on like this any longer. I can’t live without them. How could I? Everyone I loved is gone now and only that snake, that monster, is left.

 

My eyes dart around the room as if looking for some kind of out. They land on a couple bottles of alcohol across the way, and I realize I’ve found it. Without a second thought, I retrieve them and begin to douse the entire room with booze. I make sure to get it everywhere, on everything. I wonder if I can find something to help it along, some sort of gasoline or something. I suppose I can go out and look if this doesn’t work.

 

There’s a spare set of matches that Prim brought back from the front desk to light some candles. They’re sitting on the coffee table next to the sofa. I grab them and light one, then throw it onto the liquid. I light another one and do the same. Another and another, and finally it has the desired effect. The room catches fires, going up in a glorious blaze. And I’m going to sit here and burn.

 

It turns out I don’t need the gasoline after all. The liquor was plenty flammable itself. Soon the entire room is ablaze. Smoke fills the room. I cough, feeling dizzy as the air becomes less breathable, but I stay right where I am. It’ll be easier this way if I’m knocked out before the flames get my body. I become more and more sleepy, and I know I’m passing out. Finally, I’m going to slip into relief at last.

 

I can vaguely make out the sound of something loud crashing down. Then there are voices, male I think. Yes, I hear them shouting. Then the world goes dark.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Katniss?”

 

I groan, trying to remember where I am. I’m very disoriented. Why? What happened?

 

“Katniss?” I hear my name again, and for a minute I think it’s my mother. I must be sick at home, and she’s watching over me.

 

But no. That’s wrong. My mother is in an asylum. Driven mad after losing my father. And… slowly and painfully, it all comes back.

 

My eyes flutter open. Two blue eyes stare down at me. “Katniss? Are you awake?”

 

“Peeta?” It feels wrong. He was dead. He was dead! Then did it work? Am I dead, too? I struggle to sit up, but he restrains me.

 

“Just stay quiet for now. We rescued you from that fire,” he tells me.

 

“Fire?” The details of that come back, too. I remember dousing the room with alcohol, how I was going to burn The Mockingjay to the ground, and take myself along with it. “You’re alive,” I say to Peeta.

 

“Yes.” He smiles down at me. “Did Snow tell you otherwise?”

 

I nod. “He made it sound like he got you and Prim both.”

 

“Well, he was lying about me. And our intel says another undercover agent at Ceasar’s caught Cray bringing Prim in through their casino. They got her. She’s safe.”

 

I close my eyes. I’m so relieved, I’m actually starting to cry.

 

“The Mockingjay’s seen better days, though,” Peeta continues. “Your fire really caught on. Half the hotel went up in flames before they were able to put it out.”

 

For the first time, I notice where we are. I’m laying in a hospital bed, a quiet room I don’t recognize. “How long was I out?”

 

“A couple of hours,” he says. “You’re lucky we got you here in time.”

 

“You’re lucky you didn’t make the whole op worthless, is what you are,” another, gruffer voice joins in. Haymitch. Still feeling groggy, I turn and see him sitting in a chair next to a window. “You could have set the whole office on fire and cost us valuable evidence.”

 

Haymitch’s words make me angry, but I’m too weak to fight back. “Sorry,” I mumble crossly. It’s the best I can manage, but at least it’s something.

 

“Fortunately for you, it turned out to be just the distraction we needed.” Haymitch’s voice is softer this time. “They caught Snow as he was trying to make his escape. And I caught them as they were trying to remove boxes from the office.”

 

“Well, I suppose the whole thing turned out wonderful then, didn’t it?” I say sarcastically. Haymitch mutters something I can’t quite make out and leaves the room.

 

When we’re alone, Peeta takes my hand in his. “Katniss, you had me really worried there. I thought I’d lost you.”

 

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. This time I’m sincere. “I just couldn’t bear the thought of… of… “

 

He looks sympathetic and squeezes my hand. “I know. But I’m here.”

 

“Katniss!” Her voice alone makes me sit straight up before Peeta can stop me.

 

“Prim!”

 

She launches straight into my arms, and I hug her tightly to me. Tears stream down her face. “Katniss, I thought you were dead! I can’t believe you got caught up in all that!”

 

I don’t really know what to tell her. There are a lot of secrets I’ve kept from Prim that she discovered today. One day, soon, we’re going to have to have a conversation about it. But today isn’t that day. I’m too weak, and Prim is just grateful that we’re safe for now.

 

“You have no idea how relieved I am to see you,” I tell her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost to the end! We'll wrap things up next week with the epilogue. Thanks for reading!


	7. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

They keep me under observation for a couple days before releasing me. I’m lucky to have gotten out with such minimal damage, they say. A fire of that size could have caused some serious injury. But Peeta managed to pull me out just in the nick of time.

When they finally do release me, they have to sneak me out the back because a whole entourage of reporters are trying to catch sight of me as I leave. I’m grateful for everyone’s assistance getting me out in peace. I feel better after the fire, but given everything that’s happened to me in the last few days, I’m in no mood to be giving any interviews.

Peeta lets Prim and me both stay with him for the remaining few weeks before Prim has to return to Reno for school. Then it’s just him and me. I had slept in the living room with Prim when she was here, but with her gone, it’s only a matter of days before Peeta and I are sharing his bed. Even though the sting on The Mockingjay is over, he still has some business to wrap up in Nevada. Turns out there’s a whole committee here that are devoted to fighting organized crime. Peeta and Haymitch both report back to some woman named Coin. Plutarch Heavensbee was in on it, too. Looks like I wasn’t the only double agent in this operation.

Once I’m healthy enough to be back on my feet, I’m called to court. Despite the fact that my actions helped to catch one of the most notorious criminals around, I still have to answer for my arson. We’re caught up for months before Plutarch, of all people, manages to have me acquitted by way of mental instability. It’s not the most flattering depiction, but I’ll take it.

We’re in bed one night, about a week before Peeta is due to complete his assignment in Las Vegas when he turns to me. “We have to make a decision here, Katniss.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, looking up at him from my spot on his chest.

“I mean, after next week, my job will be done here. And you’re a free woman. What comes next?”

“Won’t you get another assignment once this one is done?” I ask, confused.

“I could. If I wanted one,” he says vaguely.

“What does that mean?”

He shifts us, wrapping his arm around me tighter. “Maybe it’s time for a new chapter in life.”

“Peeta, what are you getting at?” I prop myself up on my arm to get a better look at him. He’s starting to worry me a little. What exactly does he have in mind?

He just stares up at me, smiling, like the stars and the moon themselves are orbiting above him. He lifts a hand and strokes my cheek. “I don’t want to live without you, Katniss,” he says. “Whatever happens, I want you to go with me.”

I feel my cheeks burn. Maybe it’s stupid to blush in these circumstances. But I can’t help myself.

“Will you go with me?” He asks.

Nothing is holding me here anymore. My time as the Mockingjay is done. That life is over. Maybe Peeta is right. Maybe it is time for a new chapter. A fresh start someplace else. Maybe I can find a life for myself that I’ve never dared to dream of having.

“Alright,” I agree.

His face lights up, and he draws me to him for a kiss.

A couple days later, we marry. Prim is mad when I tell her we did it without her, but I can tell she’s secretly pleased. I also tell her about our conversation.

“Do it,” she urges me. “Katniss, you’re free now.”

“But what about you?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” she insists. “I’m safe where I am. I promise. It’s time you live your life for you.”

When they approach Peeta for his next assignment, he turns them down. In fact, he decides to step away from the FBI entirely. We pack what few possessions we have and head to the mountains. Peeta plans to open a bakery, his dream that his mother would never allow him to pursue, claiming it was impractical. He needed something that would make money. But now Peeta has decided to go for it, with me by his side.

 

 

1960

“Mama!” She says, her pigtails bouncing as she jumps around. “Hurry! We’re going to be late for school!”

“Alright,” I laugh. “I just need to button up your cardigan.”

The five-year-old does her best to hold still while I finish, then skips towards the doorway, eager to get going. “We can’t forget your lunch!” I call as I retrieve her bag from the kitchen.

“Hurry, mama!” She urges me. It’s her first day of kindergarten, and she’s excited to get there. I can’t say I’m as excited. My baby is growing up.

Sometimes I still marvel when I watch her that she even exists at all. I was so sure I would never have children. She knows nothing about the life I used to live, or how Peeta and I met. One day, we will tell her. But for now, conquering the first day of school is as big a challenge as we’re going to get.

I take her small hand and walk her outside, guiding her to the sidewalk outside our house. Our town might be safe, but there’s no way I’m letting her take this walk alone.

“Remember, Daddy promised a special treat from the bakery tonight to celebrate your first day,” I remind her. “And Aunt Prim is going to call. She wants to hear all about how it goes.”

“Will it be cookies?” She asks, focusing her blue eyes on me.

“Maybe,” I laugh. “You never know what Daddy’s going to bring you.”

I take her all the way into her class, watching as her dark hair melds into the sea of other children. It’s hard not to tear up a little, watching her go out into the world. But I knew the day was coming.

On the way home, I drop by the bakery. “How did it go?” Peeta asks as he comes out from behind the counter.

“It went well,” I say. “I can’t believe she’s in kindergarten already.”

“I know,” he agrees. “I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to make it today.”

“It’s alright,” I assure him. I place my hand on my stomach. “You’re going to have another chance soon.”

Peeta’s face lights up with a grin as he pulls me in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, we've reached the end of our story! Thank you to everyone who has supported this story; it's meant a lot to me to know you've liked it! I hope the story's conclusion lived up to expectations.
> 
> And of course, I must give one final shout of gratitude to dispatchesfromdistrict7, bigbigbigday006/feeding_geese, and gentlemama for all their help with this story, and akai-echo for the beautiful banner that still blows me away to this day. And of course, thank you to titania522 for hosting A Candle for the Caribbean!


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